THE CLERKES TALE

[THAT the original of this story was older than Boccaccio's novel admits of no doubt. Petrarch was acquainted with it many years before it was related by Boccaccio, whom he had himself, probably, supplied with the chief incidents. But, while we have many subsequent forms of it, the novel in the Decameron is the earliest now known to exist. The French are entitled to the credit of having first introduced it to the stage, a play on the subject having been produced at Paris in 1393, about nineteen years after Petrarch's death. Dramas were afterwards founded upon it in Italy, Germany, and England. Chaucer's tale is the earliest narrative in our language of the woes and virtues of Patient Grissell, since rendered familiar to the English reader by the prominent place it occupies in our ballad literature. Few stories enjoy so wide a popularity. The incredible resignation of the heroine may be said to have passed into a proverb.

Although Chaucer was indebted to Petrarch for his materials, the story acquires originality in his hands from the sweetness and tenderness of expression he has infused into the relation. Charles James Fox, who had never seen Petrarch's version, describes with accuracy the character of this poem when he observes, in one of his letters to Lord Holland, that it closely resembles the manner of Ariosto.]

HER is at the west ende of Ytaile,

THER

Doun at the root of Vesulus the colde,

A lusty playn, abundaunt of vitaile,

Wher many a tour and toun thou maist byholde,
That foundid were in tyme of fadres olde.
And many anothir delitable sight,
And Saluces this noble contray hight.
A marquys whilom duellid in that iond,
As were his worthy eldris him bifore,
And obeisaunt ay redy to his hond,

Were alle his liegis, bothe lesse and more.
Thus in delyt he lyveth and hath don yore,
Biloved and drad, thurgh favour of fortune,
Bothe of his lordes and of his comune.

Therwith he was, as to speke of lynage,
Tue gentileste born of Lumbardye,

A fair persone, and strong, and yong of age,
And ful of honour and of curtesie;
Discret y-nough his contre for to gye,
Savynge in som thing he was to blame;
And Wautier was this yonge lordes name.

I blame him thus, that he considered nought
In tyme comyng what mighte bityde,
But on his lust present was al his thought,
As for to hauke and hunte on every syde;
Wel neigh al othir cures let he slyde,
And eek he nolde (that was the worst of al)
Wedde no wyf for no thing that might bifal.
Only that poynt his poeple bar so sore,
That flokmel on a day to him thay went,
And oon of hem, that wisest was of lore,
(Or elles that the lord wolde best assent
That he schuld telle him what his poeple ment,
Or ellis couthe he schewe wel such matiere)
He to the marquys sayd as ye schuln hiere.
U noble marquys, youre humanite

Assureth us and giveth us hardynesse,
As ofte as tyme is of necessite,

That we to yow may telle oure hevynesse;
Acceptith, lord, now of your gentilesse,'
That we with pitous hert unto yow playne,
And let your eeris my vois not disdeyne.

'And have I nought to doon in this matere
More than another man hath in this place,
Yit for as moche as ye, my lord so deere,

1 Harl. MS, necessitee; a mere repetition of the last word of the preceding line but one.

Han alway schewed me favour and grace,
I dar the better ask of yow a space
Of audience, to schewen oure request,'
And ye, my lord, to doon right as yow lest.
'For certes, lord, so wel us likith yow
And al your werk, and ever han doon, that we
Ne couthen not ourselve devysen how
We mighte lyve more in felicite;

Save oon thing, lord, if that your wille be,
That for to be a weddid man yow list,
Than were your pepel in sovereign hertes rest.
'Bowith your neck undir that blisful yok
Of sovereignete, nought of servise,

Which that men clepe spousail or wedlok;
And thenketh, lord, among your thoughtes wise,
How that our dayes passe in sondry wyse;
For though we slepe, or wake, or rome, or ryde,
Ay fleth the tyme, it wil no man abyde.

And though your grene youthe floure as yit,
In crepith age alway as stille as stoon,
And deth manasith every age, and smyt
In ech estat, for ther ascapith noon.
And as certeyn, as we knowe everychon
That we schuln deye, as uncerteyn we alle
Ben of that day that deth schal on us falle.
'Acceptith thanne of us the trewe entent,
That never yit refusid youre hest,
And we wil, lord, if that ye wil assent,
Chese yow a wyf, in schort tyme atte lest,
Born of the gentilest and the heighest
Of al this lond, so that it oughte seme
Honour to God and yow, as we can deme.

'Deliver us out of al this busy drede And tak a wyf, for hihe Goddes sake. For if it so bifel, as God forbede,

1 Harl. MS., to asken.

That thurgh your deth your lignage schuld aslake,
And that a straunge successour schuld take
Your heritage, O! wo were us on lyve!
Wherfor we pray yow hastily to wyve.'

Her meeke prayer and her pitous chere
Made the marquys to han pite.

'Ye wolde,' quod he, 'myn owne poeple deere,
To that I never erst thought constreigne me.
I me rejoysid of my liberte,

That selden tyme is founde in mariage;
Ther I was fre, I mot ben in servage.

'But natheles I se youre trewe' entent,
And trust upon your witt, and have doon ay;
Wherfor of my fre wil I wil assent
To wedde me, as soon as ever I may.
But ther as ye have profred me to day
To chese me a wyf, I wol relese

That choys, and pray yow of that profre cesse.
"For God it woot, that childer ofte been
Unlik her worthy eldris hem bifore;

Bounte cometh al of God, nought of the streen'
Of which thay ben engendrid and i-bore.
I trust in Goddes bounte, and therfore
My mariage, and myn estat and rest,
I him bytake, he may doon as him lest.
'Let me aloon in chesyng of my wif,
That charge upon my bak I wil endure.
But I yow pray, and charge upon your lyf,
That what wyf that I take, ye me assure
To worschip whil that hir lif may endure,
In word and werk, bothe heer and every where,
As sche an emperoures doughter were.

'And forthermor thus schul ye swer, that ye Ageins my chois schuln never grucche ne stryve.

1 Harl. MS., se of you the trewe.

2 Virtue comes from God, and not from the streen, or strain (race! from which men are descended.

For sins I schal forgo my liberte
At your request, as ever mot I thrive,
Ther as myn hert is set, ther wil I wyve
And but ye wil assent in such manere,

I

pray yow spek no more of this matiere.' With hertly wil thay sworen and assentyn To al this thing, ther sayde no wight nay, Bysechyng him of grace, er that thay wentyn, That he wold graunten hem a certeyn day Of his spousail, as soone as ever he may; For yit alway the peple som what dredde Lest that the marquys wolde no wyf wedde. He graunted hem a day, such as him lest, On which he wolde be weddid sicurly; And sayd he dede al this at her requeste. And thay with humble hert ful buxomly, Knelyng upon her knees ful reverently, Him thanken alle, and thus thay have an ende Of her entent, and hom agein they wende. And herupon he to his officeris Comaundith for the feste to purveye, And to his prive knightes and squyeres Such charge gaf as him list on hem leye: And thay to his comaundement obeye, And ech of hem doth his diligence To doou unto the feste reverence.

PARS SECUNDA.

NOUGHT fer fro thilke palys honurable,

Wher as this marquys schop his mariage, Ther stood a throp, of sighte delitable, In which that pore folk of that vilage Hadden her bestes and her herburgage, And after her labour took her sustienaunce, After the erthe gaf hem abundaunce.

Among this pore folk there duelt a man, Which that was holden porest of hem alle;