“I have no womman súffisant certéyne
The chambres for to array in ordinance
After my wil, and therfor wold I feyne,
That thin were al such courtly governaúnce;
Thow knowest eek of old al my plesaunce;
Though ille thy garments be and thin arraye,
Do thou thy duetie atte leste weye.”

“Nought only, lord, that I am glad,” quoth she,
“To do your wil, but I desire also
You for to serve and plese in my degree,
Withoute feyntyng, and shal evermo;
And never for no happinesse or wo,
The ghost withinne myn herte shal never cease
To love you best with al trewe gentilesse.”

And with that word she gan the hous to dight,
And tables for to sette, and beddes make,
And peynèd hir to do al that she might,
Preying the chamberers for Goddes sake
To hasten them, and faste swepe and shake,
And she the moste servisable of alle
Hath every chamber arrayèd, and his halle.

Abouten morning gan this lord alight,
That with him brought these noble children tweye;
For which the peple ran to see that sight
Of al the pompe and al the riche arraye.
And than at once amonges them thay seye,
That Walter was no fool, though that him lest
To chaunge his wyf; for it was for the best.

For she is fairer, as thay demen alle,
Than is Grisild, and tenderer of age,
And fairer fruyt bitwen them shulde falle,
And more plesaunt for hir high lynáge,
Hir brother eek so fair was of viságe,
That them to see the peple hath caught plesaúnce,
Comending now the marquys governaúnce.

O stormy poeple, unfirm and ever untrewe,
And undiscret, and chaunging as a vane,
Delytyng ever in rumour that is newe,
For lik the moone ay waxe ye and wane;
Deere at a grote your prayse and your disdeyn,
Youre word is fals, your service yvel previth,
A ful gret fool is he that you believeth.

Thus sayde the sober folke in that citee,
When that the peple gasèd up and doun;
For thay were glad right for the noveltee,
To have a newe lady in their toun.
No more of this now make I mencioun,
But to Grisild agayn wol I me addresse,
And telle hir constance, and hir busynesse.

Ful busy was Grisild in every thing,
That to the feste was appertinent:
Right nought was she abassht of hir clothíng,
Though it were rude, and somwhat eek to-rent.
But with glad cheer she to the gate is went,
With other folk, to griete the marquisesse,
And after that doth forth hir busynesse.

With so glad chier his gestes she receyveth,
So connyngly eche one in his degree,
That no defaute no man apperceyveth,
But ay thay wondren what she mighte be,
That in so poor array was there to see,
And knewe such honour and such reverénce,
And worthily thay praysen hir prudence.

In al this mene-whil her wit she spente
This mayde and eek hir brother to comende
With al hir hert in ful plesaunt entent,
So wel, that no man coude her works amende;
But atte last whan that these lordes wend
To sitte doun to mete, he gan to calle
Grisild, as she was busy in his halle.

“Grisyld,” quoth he, as it were in his play,
“How likith thee my wif and-hir beautee?”
“Right wel, my lord,” quoth she, “for in good fay,
A fairer saw I never none than she.
I pray to God give hir prosperitee;
And so hope I, that he wil to you sende
Pleasaunce ynough unto your lyves ende.

“One thing warn I you and biseke also,
Hurte not ever with no tormentýnge
This tendre mayden, as ye have done mo;
For she is fostrid in hir norischinge
More tendrely, and to my súpposýnge
She coude not adversitee endure,
As coude a pore fostrid créatúre.”

And when this Walter saw hir pacience,
Hir glade cheer, and no malice at al,
And he so oft hadde doon to hir offence,
And she ay sad and constant as a wal,
Continuyng ever hir innocence overal,
This sturdy marquys gan his herte addresse
To pity al hir wyfly stedefastnesse.

“This is ynough, Grisilde myn,” quoth he,
“Be now no more agast, no more afraide.
I have thy faith and thy benignitee,
As wel as ever womman was, assayed
In gret estate, and poore estate arrayed:
Now knowe I, dere wyf, thy stedefastnesse;”
And hir in armes took, and gan hir kisse.