"But o thyng warne I yow, my freendes deere,
I wol moon oold wyf han in no manere.
205 She shal nat passe twenty yeer, certayn;
Oold fissh and yong flessh wolde I have ful fayn.
Bet is," quod he, "a pyk than a pykerel,
And bet than old boef is the tendre veel.
I wol no womman thritty yeer of age;
210 It is but bene-straw and greet forage.
And eek thise olde wydwes, God it woot,
They konne so muchel craft on Wades boot,
So muchel broken harm, whan that hem leste,
That with hem sholde I nevere lyve in reste.
215 For sondry scoles maken sotile clerkis;
Womman of manye scoles half a clerk is.
But certeynly, a yong thyng may men gye,
Right as men may warm wex with handes plye.
Wherfore I sey yow pleynly, in a clause,
220 I wol noon oold wyf han right for this cause.
For if so were I hadde swich myschaunce,
That I in hire ne koude han no plesaunce,
Thanne sholde I lede my lyf in avoutrye,
And go streight to the devel, whan I dye.
225 Ne children sholde I none upon hire geten;
Yet were me levere houndes hand me eten,
Than that myn heritage sholde falle
In straunge hand, and this I telle yow alle.
I dote nat, I woot the cause why
230 Men sholde wedde, and forthermoore woot I,
Ther speketh many a man of mariage
That woot namoore of it than woot my page,
For whiche causes man sholde take a wyf.
If he ne may nat lyven chaast his lyf,
235 Take hym a wyf with greet devocioun,
By cause of leveful procreacioun
Of children, to th'onour of God above,
And nat oonly for paramour or love;
And for they sholde leccherye eschue,
240 And yelde hir dette whan that it is due;
Or for that ech of hem sholde helpen oother
In meschief, as a suster shal the brother;
And lyve in chastitee ful holily.
But sires, by youre leve, that am nat I.
245 For, God be thanked! I dar make avaunt,
I feele my lymes stark and suffisaunt
To do al that a man bilongeth to;
I woot myselven best what I may do.
Though I be hoor, I fare as dooth a tree
250 That blosmeth er that fruyt ywoxen bee;
And blosmy tree nys neither drye ne deed.
I feele me nowhere hoor but on myn heed;
Myn herte and alle my lymes been as grene
As laurer thurgh the yeer is for to sene.
255 And syn that ye han herd al myn entente,
I prey yow to my wyl ye wole assente.


       "But of one thing I warn you, my friends dear,
I will not have an old wife coming here.
205 She shan't have more than twenty years, that's plain;
Of old fish and young flesh I am full fain.
Better," said he, "a pike than pickerel;
And better than old beef is tender veal.
I'll have no woman thirty years of age,
210 It is but bean-straw and such rough forage.
And these old widows, God knows that, afloat,
They know so much of spells when on Wade's boat,
And do such petty harm, when they think best,
That with one should I never live at rest.
215 For several schools can make men clever clerks;
Woman in many schools learns clever works.
But certainly a young thing men may guide,
Just as warm wax may with one's hands be plied.
Wherefore I tell you plainly, in a clause,
220 I will not have an old wife, for that cause.
For if it chanced I made that sad mistake
And never in her could my pleasure take,
My life I'd lead then in adultery
And go straight to the devil when I die.
225 No children should I then on her beget;
Yet would I rather hounds my flesh should fret
Than that my heritage descend and fall
Into strange hands, and this I tell you all.
I dote not, and I know the reason why
230 A man should marry, and furthermore know I
There speaks full many a man of all marriage
Who knows no more of it than knows my page,
Nor for what reasons man should take a wife.
If one may not live chastely all his life,
235 Let him take wife whose quality he's known
For lawful procreation of his own
Blood children, to the honour of God above,
And not alone for passion or for love;
And because lechery they should eschew
240 And do their family duty when it's due;
Or because each of them should help the other
In trouble, as a sister shall a brother;
And live in chastity full decently.
But, sirs, and by your leave, that is not I.
245 For, God be thanked, I dare to make a vaunt,
I feel my limbs are strong and fit to jaunt
In doing all man's are expected to;
I know myself and know what I can do.
Though I am hoar, I fare as does a tree
250 That blossoms before the fruit be grown; you see
A blooming tree is neither dry nor dead.
And I feel nowhere hoary but on head;
My heart and all my limbs are still as green
As laurel through the year is to be seen.
255 And now that you have heard all my intent,
I pray that to my wish you will assent."

       With face sad his tale he hath hem toold.
He seyde, "Freendes, I am hoor and oold,
And almost, God woot, on my pittes brynke;
190 Upon my soule somwhat moste I thynke.
I have my body folily despended;
Blessed be God that it shal been amended!
For I wol be, certeyn, a wedded man,
And that anoon in al the haste I kan.
195 Unto som mayde fair and tendre of age,
I prey yow, shapeth for my mariage
Al sodeynly, for I wol nat abyde;
And I wol fonde t'espien, on my syde,
To whom I may be wedded hastily.
200 But forasmuche as ye been mo than I,
Ye shullen rather swich a thyng espyen
Than I, and where me best were to allyen.


       With sober face his tale to them he's told;
He said to them: "My friends, I'm grey and old,
And almost, God knows, come to my grave's brink;
190 About my soul, now, somewhat must I think.
I have my body foolishly expended;
Blessed be God, that thing be amended!
For I will be, truly, a wedded man,
And that at once, in all the haste I can,
195 Unto some maiden young in age and fair.
I pray you for my marriage all prepare,
And do so now, for I will not abide;
And I will try to find one, on my side,
To whom I may be wedded speedily.
200 But for as much as you are more than I,
It's better that you have the thing in mind
And try a proper mate for me to find.

       Ther nys no thyng in gree superlatyf,
As seith Senek, above and humble wyf.
165        Suffre thy wyves tonge, as Catoun bit;
She shal comande, and thou shalt suffren it,
And yet she wole obeye of curteisye.
A wyf is kepere of thyn housbondrye;
Wel may the sike man biwaille and wepe,
170 Ther as ther nys no wyf the hous to kepe.
I warne thee, if wisely thou wolt wirche,
Love wel thy wyf, as Crist loved his chirche.
If thou lovest thyself, thou lovest thy wyf;
No man hateth his flessh, but in his lyf
175 He fostreth it, and therfore bidde I thee,
Cherisse thy wyf, or thou shalt nevere thee.
Housbonde and wyf, what so men jape or pleye,
Of worldly folk holden the siker weye;
They been so knyt ther may noon harm bityde,
180 And namely upon the wyves syde.
For which this Januarie, of whom I tolde,
Considered hath, inwith his dayes olde,
The lusty lyf, the vertuous quyete,
That is in mariage hony-sweete;
185 And for his freendes on a day he sente,
To tellen hem th'effect of his entente.


       There is no pleasure so superlative
Says Seneca, as a humble wife can give.
165 Suffer your wife's tongue, Cato bids, as fit;
She shall command, and you shall suffer it;
And yet she will obey, of courtesy.
A wife is keeper of your husbandry;
Well may the sick man wail and even weep
170 Who has no wife the house to clean and keep.
I warn you now, if wisely you would work,
Love well your wife, as Jesus loves his church.
For if you love yourself, you love your wife;
No man hates his own flesh, but through his life
175 He fosters it, and so I bid you strive
To cherish her, or you shall never thrive.
Husband and wife, despite men's jape or play,
Of all the world's folk hold the safest way;
They are so knit there may no harm betide,
180 Especially upon the good wife's side.
For which this January, of whom I told,
Did well consider in his days grown old,
The pleasant life, the virtuous rest complete
That are in marriage, always honey-sweet;
185 And for his friends upon a day he sent
To tell them the effect of his intent.

上面的人物都是圣经里的

150        Lo, how that Jacob, as thise clerkes rede,
By good conseil of his mooder Rebekke,
Boond the kydes skyn aboute his nekke,
For which his fadres benyson he wan.
       Lo, Judith, as the storie eek telle kan,
155 By wys conseil she Goddes peple kepte,
And slow hym Olofernus, whil he slepte.
       Lo Abigayl, by good conseil, how she
Saved hir housbonde Nabal, whan that he
Sholde han be slayn; and looke, Ester also
160 By good conseil delyvered out of wo
The peple of God, and made hym Mardochee
Of Assuere enhaunced for to be.


150        Lo, how young Jacob, as these clerics read,
About his hairless neck a kid's skin bound,
A trick that Dame Rebecca for him found,
By which his father's benison he won.
Lo, Judith, as the ancient stories run,
155 By her wise counsel she God's people kept,
And Holofernes slew, while yet he slept.
Lo, Abigail, by good advice how she
Did save her husband, Nabal, when that he
Should have been slain; and lo, Esther also
160 By good advice delivered out of woe
The people of God and got him, Mordecai,
By King Ahasuerus lifted high.

125        A wyf! a, Seinte Marie, benedicite!
How myghte man han any adversitee
That hath a wyf? certes, I kan nat seye.
The blisse which that is bitwixe hem tweye
Ther may no tonge telle, or herte thynke.
130 If he be povre, she helpeth hym to swynke;
She kepeth his good, and wasteth never a deel;
Al that hire housbonde lust, hire liketh weel;
She seith nat ones "nay", whan he seith "ye".
"Do this," seith he; "Al redy, sire," seith she.
135 O blisful ordre of wedlok precious,
Thou art so murye, and eek so vertuous,
And so commended and appreved eek
That every man that halt hym worth a leek,
Upon his bare knees oughte al his lyf
140 Thanken his God that hym hath sent a wyf,
Or elles preye to God hym for to sende
A wyf, to laste unto his lyves ende.
For thanne his lyf is set in sikernesse;
He may nat be deceyved, as I gesse,
145 So that he werke after his wyves reed.
Thanne may he boldely beren up his heed,
They been so trewe, and therwithal so wyse;
For which, if thou wolt werken as the wyse,
Do alwey so as wommen wol thee rede.


125        A wife! Ah, Holy Mary, ben'cite!
How may a man have any adversity
Who has a wife? Truly, I cannot say.
The bliss that is between such two, for aye,
No tongue can tell, nor any heart can think.
130 If he be poor, why, she helps him to swink;
She keeps his money and never wastes a deal;
All that her husband wishes she likes well;
She never once says "nay" when he says "yea."
"Do this," says he; "All ready, sir," she'll say.
135 O blissful state of wedlock, prized and dear,
So pleasant and so full of virtue clear,
So much approved and praised as fortune's peak,
That every man who holds him worth a leek
Upon his bare knees ought, through all his life,
140 To give God thanks, who's sent to him a wife;
Or else he should pray God that he will send
A wife to him, to last till his life's end.
For then his life is set in certainness;
He cannot be deceived, as I may guess,
145 So that he act according as she's said;
Then may he boldly carry high his head,
They are so true and therewithal so wise;
Wherefore, if you will do as do the wise,
Then aye as women counsel be your deed.

创了回帖数量的纪录了吧

       A wyf is Goddes yifte verraily;
100 Alle othere manere yiftes hardily,
As londes, rentes, pasture, or commune,
Or moebles, alle been yiftes of fortune,
That passen as a shadwe upon a wal.
But drede nat, if pleynly speke I shal,
105 A wyf wol laste, and thyn hous endure,
Wel lenger than thee list, paraventure.


       A wife is God's own gift, yes truly;
100 All other kinds of gifts, most certainly,
As lands, rents, pasture, rights in common land,
Or moveables, in gift of Fortune stand,
And pass away like shadows on the wall.
But, without doubt, if plainly speak I shall,
105 A wife will last, and in your house endure
Longer than you would like, peradventure.


       Mariage is a ful greet sacrement.
He which that hath no wyf, I holde hym shent;
He lyveth helplees and al desolat, --
110 I speke of folk in seculer estaat.
And herke why, I sey nat this for noght,
That womman is for mannes helpe ywroght.
The hye God, whan he hadde Adam maked,
And saugh him al allone, bely-naked,
115 God of his grete goodnesse syde than,
"Lat us now make an helpe unto this man
Lyk to hymself"; and thanne he made him Eve.
Heere may ye se, and heerby may ye preve,
That wyf is mannes helpe and his confort,
120 His paradys terrestre, and his disport.
So buxom and so vertuous is she,
They moste nedes lyve in unitee.
O flessh they been, and o fleesh, as I gesse,
Hath but oon herte, in wele and in distresse.


       But marriage is a solemn sacrament;
Who has no wife I hold on ruin bent;
He lives in helplessness, all desolate,
110 I speak of folk in secular estate.
And listen why, I say not this for naught:
It's because woman was for man's help wrought.
The High God, when He'd Adam made, all rude,
And saw him so alone and belly-nude,
115 God of His goodness thus to speak began:
"Let us now make a help meet for this man,
Like to himself." And then he made him Eve.
Here may you see, and here prove, I believe,
A wife is a man's help and his comfort,
120 His earthly paradise and means of sport;
So docile and so virtuous is she
That they must needs live in all harmony.
One flesh they are, and one flesh, as I guess,
Has but one heart in weal and in distress.

55        And certeinly, as sooth as God is kyng,
To take a wyf it is a glorious thyng,
And namely whan a man is oold and hoor;
Thanne is a wyf the fruyt of his tresor.
Thanne sholde he take a yong wyf and a feir,
60 On which he myghte engendren hym and heir,
And lede his lyf in joye and in solas,
Where as thise bacheleris synge allas,
Whan that they funden any adversitee
In love, which nys but childyssh vanytee.
65 And trewely it sit wel to be so,
That bacheleris have often peyne and wo;
On brotel ground they buylde, and brotelnesse
They fynde, whan they wene sikernesse.
They lyve but as a bryd or as a beest,
70 In libertee, and under noon arreest,
Ther as a wedded man in his estaat
Lyveth a lyf blisful and ordinaat,
Under this yok of mariage ybounde.
Wel may his herte in joy and blisse habounde,
75 For who kan be so buxom as a wyf?
Who is so trewe, and eek so ententyf
To kepe hym, syk and hool, as is his make?
For wele or wo she wole hym nat forsake;
She nys nat wery hym to love and serve,
80 Thogh that he lye bedrede, til he sterve.
And yet somme clerkes seyn it nys nat so,
Of whiche he Theofraste is oon of tho.
What force though Theofraste liste lye?
"Ne take no wyf," quod he, "for housbondrye,
85 As for to spare in houshold thy dispence.
A trewe servant dooth moore diligence
Thy good to kepe, than thyn owene wyf,
For she wol clayme half part al hir lyf.
And if that thou be syk, so God me save,
90 Thy verray freendes, or a trewe knave,
Wol kepe thee bet than she that waiteth ay
After thy good and hath doon many a day.
And if thou take a wyf unto thyn hoold,
Ful lightly maystow been a cokewold."
95 This sentence, and an hundred thynges worse,
Writeth this man, ther God his bones corse!
But take no kep of al swich vanytee;
Deffie Theofraste, and herke me.


55        And certainly, as sure as God is King,
To take a wife, it is a glorious thing,
Especially when a man is old and hoary;
Then is a wife the fruit of wealth and glory.
Then should he take a young wife and a fair,
60 On whom he may beget himself an heir,
And lead his life in joy and in solace,
Whereas these bachelors do but sing "Alas!"'
When they fall into some adversity
In love, which is but childish vanity.
65 And truly, it is well that it is so
That bachelors have often pain and woe;
On shifting ground they build, and shiftiness
They find when they suppose they've certainness.
They live but as a bird does, or a beast,
70 In liberty and under no arrest,
Whereas a wedded man in his high state
Lives a life blissful, ordered, moderate,
Under the yoke of happy marriage bound;
Well may his heart in joy and bliss abound.
75 For who can be so docile as a wife?
Who is so true as she whose aim in life
Is comfort for him, sick or well, to make?
For weal or woe she will not him forsake.
She's ne'er too tired to love and serve, say I,
80 Though he may lie bedridden till he die.
And yet some writers say it is not so,
And Theophrastus is one such, I know.
What odds though Theophrastus chose to lie?
"Take not a wife," said he, "for husbandry,
85 If you would spare in household your expense;
A faithful servant does more diligence
To keep your goods than your own wedded wife.
For she will claim a half part all her life;
And if you should be sick, so God me save,
90 Your true friends or an honest serving knave
Will keep you better than she that waits, I say,
After your wealth, and has done, many a day.
And if you take a wife to have and hold,
Right easily may you become cuckold."
95 This judgment and a hundred such things worse
Did this man write, may God his dead bones curse!
But take no heed of all such vanity.
Defy old Theophrastus and hear me.

       Whilom ther was dwellynge in Lumbardye
A worthy knyght, that born was of Pavye,
35 In which he lyved in greet prosperitee;
And sixty yeer a wyflees man was hee,
And folwed ay his bodily delyt
On wommen, ther as was his appetyt,
As doon thise fooles that been seculeer.
40 And whan that he was passed sixty yeer,
Were it for hoolynesse or for dotage,
I kan nat seye, but swich a greet corage
Hadde this knyght to been a wedded man
That day and nyght he dooth al that he kan
45 T'espien where he myghte wedded be,
Preyinge oure lord to graunten him that he
Mighte ones knowe of thilke blisful lyf
That is bitwixe an housbonde and his wyf,
And for to lyve under that hooly boond
50 With which that first God man and womman bond.
"Noon oother lyf," seyde he, "is worth a bene;
For wedlok is so esy and so clene,
That in this world it is paradys."
Thus seyde this olde knyght, that was so wys.


       Once on a time there dwelt in Lombardy
A worthy knight, born in Pavia,
35 And there he lived in great prosperity;
And sixty years a wifeless man was he,
And followed ever his bodily delight
In women, whereof was his appetite,
As these fool laymen will, so it appears.
40 And when he had so passed his sixty years,
Were it for piety or for dotage
I cannot say, but such a rapturous rage
Had this knight to become a married man
That day and night he did his best to scan
45 And spy a place where he might married be;
Praying Our Lord to grant to him that he
Might once know something of that blissful life
That is between a husband and his wife;
And so to live within that holy band
50 Wherein God first made man and woman stand.
"No other life," said he, "is worth a bean;
For marriage is so easy and so clean
That in this world it is a paradise."
Thus said this ancient knight, who was so wise.

       A! goode sire hoost, I have ywedded bee
Thise monthes two, and moore nat, pardee;
And yet, I trowe, he that al his lyve
Wyflees hath been, though that men wolde him ryve
25 Unto the herte, ne koude in no manere
Tellen so muchel sorwe as I now heere
Koude tellen of my wyves cursednesse!"
       Now," quod oure hoost, "Marchaunt, so God yow blesse,
Syn ye so muchel knowen of that art
30 Ful hertely I pray yow telle us part."
       "Gladly," quod he, "but of myn owene soore,
For soory herte, I telle may namoore."


       Ah, good sir host! Yes I have been married,
These past two months, and no day more, indeed;
And yet I think that he whose days alive
Have been all wifeless, although men should rive
25 Him to the heart, he could in no wise clear
Tell you so much of sorrow as I here
Could tell you of my spouse's cursedness."
       "Now," said our host, "merchant, so God you bless,
Since you're so very learned in that art,
30 Full heartily, I pray you, tell us part."
       "Gladly," said he, "but of my own fresh sore,
For grief of heart I may not tell you more."

不是坎特伯雷吗？

       "Wepyng and waylyng, care and oother sorwe
I knowe ynogh, on even and a-morwe,"
Quod the marchant, "and so doon other mo
That wedded been. I trowe that it be so,
5 For wel I woot it fareth so with me.
I have a wyf, the worste that may be;
For thogh the feend to hire ycoupled were,
She sholde hym overmacche, I dar wel swere.
What sholde I yow reherce in special
10 Hir hye malice? She is a shrewe at al.
Ther is a long and large difference
Bitwix Grisildis grete pacience
And of my wyf the passyng crueltee.
Were I unbounden, also moot I thee!
15 I wolde nevere eft comen in the snare.
We wedded men lyven in sorwe and care.
Assaye whoso wole, and he shal fynde
That I seye sooth, by Seint Thomas of Ynde,
As for the moore part - I sey nat alle.
20 God shilde that it sholde so bifalle!


       "Of weeping and wailing, care and other sorrow
I know enough, at eventide and morrow,"
The merchant said, "and so do many more
Of married folk, I think, who this deplore,
5 For well I know that it is so with me.
I have a wife, the worst one that can be;
For though the foul Fiend to her wedded were,
She'd overmatch him, this I dare to swear.
How could I tell you anything special
10 Of her great malice? She is shrew in all.
There is a long and a large difference
Between Griselda's good and great patience
And my wife's more than common cruelty.
Were I unbound, as may I prosperous be!
15 I'd never another time fall in the snare.
We wedded men in sorrow live, and care;
Try it who will, and he shall truly find
I tell the truth, by Saint Thomas of Ind,
As for the greater part, I say not all.
20 Nay, God forbid that it should so befall!

       This worthy clerk, whan ended was his tale,
Oure hoost seyde, and swoor: "By goddes bones,
1215 Me were levere than a barel ale
"Me wyf at hoom had herd this legende ones;
This is a gentil tale for the nones,
As to my purpos, wiste ye my wille,-
But thyng that wol nat be, lat it be stille."


       This noble clerk, when his tale was ended
Our host said and pledged on God's bones
1215 "I would rather than have a barrel of ale
My wife at home had once heard this tale
This is a fine tale for the occasion
For my purposes if you knew my will
But thing that will not be, let it be still."

       Grisilde is deed, and eek hire pacience,
And bothe atones buryed in Ytaille,
For which I crie in open audience
1180 No wedded man so hardy be t'assaille
His wyves pacience, in hope to fynde
Grisildis, for in certein he shal faille.


       Griselda's dead, and dead is her patience,
In Italy both lie buried, says the tale;
For which I cry in open audience,
1180 That no man be so hardy as to assail
His own wife's patience, in a hope to find
Griselda, for 'tis certain he shall fail!


       O noble wyves, ful of heigh prudence,
Lat noon humylitee youre tonge naille,
1185 Ne lat no clerk have cause or diligence
To write of yow a storie of swich mervaille
As of Grisildis, pacient and kynde,
Lest Chichivache yow swelwe in hire entraille!


       O noble wives, full of a high prudence,
Let not humility your free tongue nail,
1185 Nor let some clerk have cause for diligence
To write of you, such marvelous detail
As of Griselda, patient and so kind;
Lest Chichevache swallow you in her entrail!


       Folweth Ekko, that holdeth no silence,
1190 But evere answereth at the countretaille;
Beth nat bidaffed for youre innocence,
But sharply taak on yow the governaille.
Emprenteth wel this lessoun in youre mynde
For commune profit, sith it may availle.


       Nay, follow Echo, that holds no silence,
1190 But answers always like a countervail;
Be not befooled, for all your innocence,
But take the upper hand and you'll prevail.
And well impress this lesson on your mind,
For common profit, since it may avail.


1195        Ye archiwyves, stondeth at defense,
Syn ye be strong as is a greet camaille.
Ne suffreth nat that men yow doon offense,
And sklendre wyves, fieble as in bataille,
Beth egre as is a tygre yond in Ynde,
1200 Ay clappeth as a mille, I yow consaille.


1195        Strong-minded women, stand at your defence,
Since you are strong as camel and don't ail,
Suffer no man to do to you offence;
And slender women in a contest frail,
Be savage as a tiger there in Ind;
1200 Clatter like mill, say I, to beat the male.


       Ne dreed hem nat, doth hem no reverence,
For though thyn housbonde armed be in maille,
The arwes of thy crabbed eloquence
Shal perce his brest and eek his aventaille.
1205 In jalousie I rede eek thou hym bynde,
And thou shalt make hym couche as doth a quaille.


       Nay, fear them not, nor do them reverence;
For though your husband be all armed in mail,
The arrows of your shrewish eloquence
Shall pierce his breast and pierce his aventail.
1205 In jealousy I counsel that you bind,
And you shall make him cower as does a quail.


       If thou be fair, ther folk been in presence
Shewe thou thy visage and thyn apparaille;
If thou be foul, be fre of thy dispence,
1210 To gete thee freendes ay do thy travaille,
Be ay of chiere as light as leef on lynde,
And lat hym care, and wepe, and wryng, and waille.


       If you are fair to see, in folks' presence,
Show them your face and with your clothes regale;
If you are foul, be lavish of expense,
1210 To gain friends never cease to do travail;
Be lightsome as a linden leaf in wind,
And let him worry, weep and wring and wail!

       This storie is seyd, nat for that wyves sholde
Folwen Grisilde as in humylitee,
For it were inportable, though they wolde,
1145 But for that every wight in his degree
Sholde be constant in adversitee
As was Grisilde. Therfore Petrark writeth
This storie, which with heigh stile he enditeth.


       This story's told here, not that all wives should
Follow Griselda in humility,
For this would be unbearable, though they would,
1145 But just that everyone, in his degree,
Should be as constant in adversity
As was Griselda; for that Petrarch wrote
This tale, and in a high style, as you'll note.


       For sith a womman was so pacient
1150 Unto a mortal man, wel moore us oghte
Receyven al in gree that God us sent.
For greet skile is, he preeve that he wroghte.
But he ne tempteth no man that he boghte,
As seith Seint Jame, if ye his pistel rede;
1155 He preeveth folk al day, it is no drede,


       For since a woman once was so patient
1150 Before a mortal man, well more we ought
Receive in good part that which God has sent;
For cause he has to prove what he has wrought.
But he tempts no man that his blood has bought,
As James says, if you his epistle read;
1155 Yet does he prove folk at all times, indeed,


       And suffreth us, as for oure excercise,
With sharpe scourges of adversitee
Ful ofte to be bete in sondry wise,
Nat for to knowe oure wyl, for certes he
1160 Er we were born knew al oure freletee,
And for oure beste is al his governaunce.
Lat us thanne lyve in vertuous suffraunce.


       And suffers us, for our good exercise,
With the sharp scourges of adversity
To be well beaten oft, in sundry wise;
Not just to learn our will; for truly He,
1160 Before we were born, did all our frailty see;
But for our good is all that He doth give.
So then in virtuous patience let us live.


       But o word, lordynges, herkneth er I go,
It were ful hard to fynde nowadayes
1165 In al a toun Grisildis thre or two;
For it that they were put to swiche assayes,
The gold of hem hath now so badde alayes
With bras, that thogh the coyne be fair at eye,
It wolde rather breste atwo than plye.


       But one word, masters, listen before I go:
One hardly can discover nowadays,
1165 In all a town, Griseldas three or two;
For, if they should be put to such assays,
Their gold's so badly alloyed, in such ways,
With brass, that though the coin delight the eye,
'Twill rather break in two than bend, say I.


1170        For which, heere for the Wyves love of Bathe,
Whos lyf and al hir seete God mayntene
In heigh maistrie, and elles were it scathe,
I wol with lusty herte fressh and grene
Seyn yow a song, to glade yow, I wene,
1175 And lat us stynte of ernestful matere.
Herkneth my song, that seith in this manere.


1170        But now, for love of the good wife of Bath,
Whose life and all whose sex may God maintain
In mastery high, or else it were but scathe,
I will with joyous spirit fresh and green
Sing you a song to gladden you, I ween;
1175 From all such serious matters let's be gone;
Listen to my song, which runs in this way on:

       Ful many a yeer in heigh prosperitee
Lyven thise two in concord and in reste.
1130 And richely his doghter maryed he
Unto a lord, oon of the worthieste
Of al Ytaille, and thanne in pees and reste
His wyves fader in his court he kepeth,
Til that the soule out of his body crepeth.


       Full many a year in high prosperity
They lived, these two, in harmony and rest,
1130 And splendidly his daughter married he
Unto a lord, one of the worthiest
In Italy; and then in peace, as best
His wife's old father at his court he kept
Until the soul out of his body crept.


1135        His sone succedeth in his heritage
In reste and pees, after his fader day,
And fortunat was eek in mariage-
Al putte he nat his wyf in greet assay;
This world is nat so strong, it is no nay,
1140 As it hath been of olde tymes yoore.
And herkneth what this auctour seith therfore.


1135        His son succeeded to his heritage
In rest and peace, after the marquis' day,
And married happily at proper age,
Albeit he tried his wife not, so they say.
This world is not so harsh, deny who may,
1140 As in old times that now are long since gone,
And listen to what this author says thereon.

       Walter hir gladeth, and hir sorwe slaketh,
She riseth up abaysed from hir traunce,
And every wight hir joye and feeste maketh,
1110 Til she hath caught agayn hir contenaunce.
Walter hire dooth so feithfully plesaunce,
That it was deyntee for to seen the cheere.
Bitwixe hem two, now they been met yfeere.


       But Walter cheered her till her sorrow fled;
And she rose up, abashed, out of her trance;
All praised her now, and joyous words they said,
1110 Till she regained her wonted countenance.
Walter so honoured her by word and glance
That it was pleasing to observe the cheer
Between them, now again together here.


       Thise ladyes, whan that they hir tyme say,
1115 Han taken hir and into chambre gon,
And strepen hire out of hir rude array
And in a clooth of gold that brighte shoon,
With a coroune of many a riche stoon
Upon hir heed, they into halle hir broghte,
1120 And ther she was honured as hire oghte.


       These ladies, when they found a tactful way,
1115 Withdrew her and to her own room were gone,
And stripped her out of her so rude array,
And in a cloth of gold that brightly shone,
Crowned with a crown of many a precious stone
Upon her head, once more to hall they brought
1120 Her, where they honoured her as all they ought.


       Thus hath this pitous day a blisful ende,
For every man and womman dooth his myght
This day in murthe and revel to dispende,
Til on the welkne shoon the sterres lyght.
1125 For moore solempne in every mannes syght
This feste was, and gretter of costage,
Than was the revel of hire mariage.


       Thus had this heavy day a happy end,
For everyone did everything he might
The day in mirth and revelry to spend
Till in the heavens shone the stars' fair light.
1125 For far more grand in every person's sight
This feast was, and of greater cost, 'twas said,
Than were the revels when they two were wed.

       Whan she this herde, aswowne doun she falleth
1080 For pitous joye, and after hir swownynge
She bothe hir yonge children unto hir calleth,
And in hir armes pitously wepynge
Embraceth hem, and tendrely kissynge
Ful lyk a mooder, with hir salte teeres
1085 She bathed bothe hir visage and hir heeres.


       When she heard this, she swooned and down did fall
1080 For pitiful joy, and after her swooning
Both her young children to her did she call,
And in her arms, full piteously weeping,
Embraced them, and ail tenderly kissing,
As any mother would, with many a tear
1085 She bathed their faces and their sunny hair.


       O, which a pitous thyng it was to se
Hir swownyng, and hir humble voys to heere!
"Grauntmercy, lord, that thanke I yow," quod she,
"That ye han saved me my children deere!
1090 Now rekke I nevere to been deed right heere.
Sith I stonde in your love and in your grace,
No fors of deeth, ne whan my spirit pace!


       Oh, what a pitiful thing it was to see
Her swooning, and her humble voice to hear!
"Thanks, lord, that I may thank you now," said she,
"That you have saved to me my children dear!
1090 Now I am ready for death right here;
Since I stand in your love and in your grace,
Death matters not, nor what my soul may face!


       O tendre, O deere, O yonge children myne!
Your woful mooder wende stedfastly
1095 That crueel houndes, or som foul vermyne
Hadde eten yow; but God of his mercy
And youre benyngne fader tendrely
Hath doon yow kept," - and in that same stounde
Al sodeynly she swapte adoun to grounde.


       O young, O dear, O tender children mine,
Your woeful mother thought for long, truly,
1095 That cruel hounds, or birds, or foul vermin
Had eaten you; but God, of His mercy,
And your good father, all so tenderly,
Have kept you safely." And in swoon profound
Suddenly there she fell upon the ground.


1100        And in hir swough so sadly holdeth she
Hire children two, whan she gan hem t'embrace,
That with greet sleighte and greet difficultee
The children from hire arm they gonne arace.
O many a teere on many a pitous face
1105 Doun ran, of hem that stooden hir bisyde;
Unnethe abouten hir myghte they abyde.


1100        And in her swoon so forcefully held she
Her children two, whom she'd had in embrace,
That it was hard from her to set them free,
Her arms about them gently to unlace.
Oh, many a tear on many a pitying face
1105 Ran down, of those were standing there beside;
Scarcely, for sympathy, could they abide.

       And whan this Walter saugh hir pacience,
1045 Hir glade chiere, and no malice at al,
And he so ofte had doon to hir offence
And she ay sad and constant as a wal,
Continuynge evere hir innocence overal,
This sturdy markys gan his herte dresse
1050 To rewen upon hir wyfly stedfastnesse.


       And when this Walter thought of her patience,
1045 Her glad face, with no malice there at all,
And how so oft he'd done to her offence,
And she always firm and constant as a wall,
Remaining ever blameless through it all,
This cruel marquis did his heart address
1050 To pity for her wifely steadfastness.


       "This is ynogh Grisilde myn," quod he,
"Be now namoore agast, ne yvele apayed.
I have thy feith and thy benyngnytee
As wel as evere womman was, assayed
1055 In greet estaat, and povreliche arrayed;
Now knowe I, goode wyf, thy stedfastnesse!"
And hire in armes took, and gan hir kesse.


       "This is enough, Griselda mine!" cried he,
"Be now no more ill pleased nor more afraid;
I have your faith and your benignity,
As straitly as ever woman's was, assayed
1055 In high place and in poverty arrayed.
Now know I well, dear wife, your steadfastness."
And he began to kiss her and to press.


       And she for wonder took of it no keep.
She herde nat, what thyng he to hir seyde.
1060 She ferde as she had stert out of a sleep,
Til she out of hire mazednesse abreyde.
"Grisilde," quod he, "by God that for us deyde,
Thou art my wyf, ne noon oother I have,
Ne nevere hadde, as God my soule save.


       And she, for wonder, took of this no keep;
She heard not what the thing was he had cried;
1060 She fared as if she'd started out of sleep,
Till from bewilderment she roused her pride.
"Griselda," said he, "by our God Who died,
You are my wife, no other one I have,
Nor ever had, as God my soul may save!


1065        This is thy doghter which thou hast supposed
To be my wyf; that oother feithfully
Shal be myn heir, as I have ay purposed;
Thou bare hym in thy body trewely.
At Boloigne have I kept hem prively.
1070 Taak hem agayn, for now maystow nat seye
That thou hast lorn noon of thy children tweye.


1065        This is your daughter, whom you have supposed
Should be my wife; the other child truly
Shall be my heir, as I have always purposed;
You bore him in your body faithfully.
I've kept them at Bologna secretly;
1070 Take them again, for now you cannot say
That you have lost your two children for aye


       And folk that ootherweys han seyd of me,
I warne hem wel that I have doon this deede
For no malice, ne for no crueltee,
1075 But for t'assaye in thee thy wommanheede,
And not to sleen my children - God forbeede! -
But for to kepe hem pryvely and stille,
Til I thy purpos knewe and al thy wille."


       And folk that otherwise have said of me,
I warn them well that I have done this deed
Neither for malice nor for cruelty,
1075 But to make trial in you of virtue hid,
And not to slay my children, God forbid!
But just to keep them secretly and still
Till I your purpose knew and all your will."