Chaucer for Children: A Golden Key

by Geoffrey Chaucer

‘And as a lamb sche sitteth meeke and stille,
And let this cruel sergeant doon his wille.’

Then the marquis sent to the Earl of Panik, who had married his sister, begging him to bring both his children home, openly and in great honour; but no one was to know whose children they were. He was to answer no questions—

But saye the mayde schuld i-wedded be[152]should
Unto the Markys of Saluce anoon.immediately
And as this eorl was prayd, so dede he;did
For at day set he on his way is goongone
Toward Saluce, and lordes many oon,many a one
In riche array, this mayden for to guyde,
Hir yonge brother rydyng by hir syde.
Arrayed was toward hir mariage
This freisshe may, al ful of gemmes clere;maiden, gems
Hir brother, which that seven yer was of age,
Arrayed eek ful freissh in his manere;also, manner
And thus in gret noblesse and with glad chere,nobleness
Toward Saluces shaping her journay,their
Fro day to day thay ryden in her way.their
But say the maiden should, ere long, be wed
Unto the Marquis of Saluce so high.
And as this earl was pray’d to do, he did,
And started on his journey speedily
Towards Saluces, with lordly company
In rich array, this maiden fair to guide,
Her little brother riding by her side.
And this fresh maid was robed for marriage
Full of clear gems, in goodly raiment rare;
Her brother, who was seven years of age,
Was in his fashion clad all fresh and fair;
And thus, in splendour, and with joyous air,
Towards Saluces following the way,
The cavalcade advances day by day.

Part V.

In order to put the last trial upon Griselda, to the uttermost proof of her courage, the marquis one day, before all the household, said to her in a boisterous way—

Certes, Grisildes, I had y-nough plesauncecertainly, pleasure
To have yow to my wif, for your goodnesse
And for youre trouthe, and for your obeissaunce;truth, obedience
Nought for your lignage, ne for your richesse;lineage, wealth
But now know I in verray sothfastnessetruth
That in gret lordschip, if I wel avyse,am not mistaken
Ther is gret servitude in sondry wyse.sundry wise
I may not do, as every ploughman may;
My poeple me constreignith for to takeconstrain
Another wyf, and crien day by day;
And eek the Pope, rancour for to slake,
Consentith it, that dar I undertake;dare
And trewely, thus moche I wol yow saye,much
My newe wif is comyng by the waye.
Be strong of hert, and voyde anoon hir place,heart
And thilke dower that ye broughten methat
Tak it agayn, I graunt it of my grace.
Retourneth to your fadres hous, quod he,return
No man may alway have prosperité,
With even hert I rede yow endureadvise
The strok of fortune or of adventure.chance
And sche agayn answerd in paciènce:
My lord, quod sche, I wot, and wist alway,
How that bitwixe your magnificence
And my poverté, no wight can ne maynobody
Make comparisoun, it is no nay;
I ne held me neuer digne in no manereworthy, manner
To ben your wif, ne yit your chamberere.chambermaid
And in this hous, ther ye me lady made,
(The highe God take I for my witnesse,
And al-so wisly he my soule glade)cheer
I never huld me lady ne maistresse,
But humble servaunt to your worthinesse,
And ever schal, whil that my lyf may dure,life
Aboven every worldly creature.above
That ye so longe of your benignitébenignity
Han holden me in honour and nobleye,nobleness
Wher as I was not worthy for to be,where
That thonk I God and yow, to whom I preyethank
For-yeld it yow, ther is no more to seye.repay
Unto my fader gladly wil I wende,go
And with him duelle unto my lyves ende.
Ther I was fostred as a child ful smal,
Til I be deed my lyf ther wil I lede,
A widow clene in body, hert, and al:clean
For sith I yaf to yow my maydenhede,since, maidenhood
And am your trewe wyf, it is no drede,
God schilde such a lordes wyf to takeshield (forbid)
Another man to housbond or to make.for, for mate
And of your newe wif, God of his grace
So graunte yow wele and prosperité,
For I wol gladly yelden hir my place,yield
In which that I was blisful wont to be.
For sith it liketh yow, my lord, quod sche,
That whilom were al myn hertes reste,once
That I schal gon, I wol go whan yow leste.please
But ther as ye profre me such dowayreproffer
As I ferst brought, it is wel in my mynde,
It were my wrecchid clothes, no thing faire,wretched
The whiche to me were hard now for to fynde.
O goode God! how gentil and how kynde
Ye semede by your speche and your visage,speech
That day that maked was our mariage!made
“Tis true, Griselda, I was once content
To marry you—because you were so good,
And true, and faithful, and obedient—
Not for your wealth, nor for your noble blood;
Still one thing must be clearly understood,
That in this rank and riches men so praise
There is great servitude in many ways.
“I may not do as every ploughman may:
My people urge me evermore to take
Another wife, and clamour day by day.
And now the Pope, their rancour swift to slake,
Gives glad consent to any change I make;
And more than that—I need not fear to say—
My new wife is already on her way.
Make way for her, be brave, give up her place,
And, see, the dowry that you brought to me
I will restore—I grant it of my grace.
Go back unto your father’s house,” quoth he,
“No one can always have prosperity.
With equal spirit suffer weal or woe,
The gifts of chance or luck that come and go.”
And she replied, with perfect patience:
“My lord, I know, and knew alway,” quoth she,
“Too well, that ’tween your own magnificence
And my great poverty, there cannot be
Comparison at all, and verily
I held myself unworthy every way
To be your wife—or servant—for a day.
“And in this house wherein ye made me great
(High God my witness, who shall haply set
Some coming comfort in my altered state),
Lady nor mistress never was I yet;
But humble servant to the grace I get:
This I shall be, with spirit ever strong,
More than all others, yea, my whole life long.
“And for your charity in keeping me
In dignity and honour day by day
So many years, unworthy though I be,
Now thank I God and you, to whom I pray
That He will all your graciousness repay.
Unto my father cheerfully I wend
To dwell with him from now to my life’s end.
“There I was fostered as an infant small,
There till I die my life I will lead through,
Dwell as an honest widow, heart and all.
For since I gave my girlhood unto you,
And am your wife, most loving and most true,
It were not fitting that a great lord’s wife
Should wed another husband all her life.
“And with your wife to be, God of his grace
Grant you all welfare and prosperity;
For I will yield her cheerfully my place,
In which I once so happy used to be;
For since it pleaseth you, my lord,” quoth she,
“Who ever were the dearest to my heart,
That I should go, content I will depart.
“But when you bid me take again that dower
That I first brought, it still is in my mind:
It was my wretched clothing, coarse and poor—
Rags that it were not easy now to find.
And, O good God! how gentle and how kind
You then seemed, by your words and by your look,
That day whereon the name of wife I took!”

Griselda said no word of reproach to her cruel husband, except one touching remark, which he may have felt as one—

“Love is not old as when that it is new.” (Love is not the same in after years as when it first comes.)

Then she appeals to him in a way that must have touched a heart of stone, for she saw no sign of relenting in his face: she does not know how far his brutality will go, and will not be surprised at the last insult.

My lord, ye wot that in my fadres place
Ye dede me strippe out of my pore wede,strip, attire
And richely me cladden of your grace;
To yow brought I nought elles, out of drede,else
But faith, and nakednesse, and maydenhede;maidenhood
And her agayn my clothyng I restore,
And eek my weddyng ryng for evermore.
The remenant of your jewels redy beremainder
Within your chambur, dar I saufly sayn.dare
Naked out of my fadres hous, quod sche,
I com, and naked moot I torne agayn.return
Al your pleisauns wold I folwen fayn;[153]follow gladly
But yit I hope it be not youre entente,intention
That I smocles out of your paleys wente.smockless, palace
“My lord, you know that in my father’s place
You stript me of my poor attire, for ruth:
Anew you richly clad me, of your grace.
And I brought nothing unto you, in truth,
But honesty, and poverty, and youth.
And here again your clothing I restore,
And ev’n your wedding-ring for evermore.
“The remnant of your jewels ready be
Within your chamber, I can safely say.
With nothing from my father’s house,” quoth she,
“I came, with nothing I shall go away.
In all things as you bid I will obey;
But yet I hope you will not let me go
Quite as bereft as when I came to you.”