Among this pore folk there duelt a man,
Which that was holden porest of them alle;
But hye God som tyme sende can
His grace unto a litel oxe stalle.
Janicula men of that thorp him calle.
A doughter had he, fair y-nough to sight,
And Grisildes this yonge mayden hight.

But for to speke of vertuous beautee,
She was of al the fayrest under the sonne;
For porely i-fostered up was she,
No love of pleasure was in hir body run;
Far ofter of the welle than of the tunne
She dronk, and, for she wolde vertu please,
She knew wel labour, but no ydel ease.

But though this mayden tender were of age,
Yet in the brest of her virginitee
Ther was enclosèd rype and firm corráge;
And in gret reverence and charitee
Hir olde pore fader fostered she;
And, whil she spun, sheep on the feld she kept,
She never yet was idel til she slept.

And when she hom — ward com she wolde brynge
Wortes or other herbes tymes ofte,
The which she shred and seethed for her lyvýng,
And made hir bed ful hard, and nothing softe.
And ay she kept hir fadres lif aloft,
With every óbeissance and diligence,
That child may do to fadres reverence.

Upon Grisild, this pore créatúre,
Ful ofte times this marquys set his eye,
As he on huntyng rode par áventúre.
And when it fel he might hir wel espye,
He not with wantoun lokyng of folýe
His eyen caste, but in sober wyse
Upon hir look he wold him oft avise,

Comendyng in his hert hir wommanhede,
And eek hir vertu, passyng any other wight
Of so yong age, as wel in look as dede.
For though the peple have no gret insight
In virtu, he considereth aright
Hir goodness, and disposèd that he wolde
Wedde only her, if ever he wedde sholde.

The day of weddyng cam, but no wight can
Tellen at al what womman it shulde be;
For which mervayle wondrith many a man,
And sayden, whan they were in privitee,
“Wil not our lord yet leve his vanitee?
Wil he not wedde a wyf? allas the while!
Why wil he thus himself and us bigyle?”

But natheles this marquys hath done make
Of gemmes, set in gold and in azúre,
Broches and rynges, for Grisildes sake,
And of hir clothing took he the mesúre,
By another mayde y-lik hir of statúre,
And eek of other ornamentes alle.
That unto such a weddyng shulde falle.

The tyme of morning of the same day
Approchith, that this weddyng shulde be,
And al the palys put was in array,
Bothe halle and chambur, each in their degré,
Houses of office stuffid with plentee,
Ther mayst thou see richesse of every kinde
That men from al Itayle may seke and finde.

This royal marquys, royally arrayd,
Lordes and ladyes in his compaignye,
The which unto the feste were y-prayed,
And of his retenu the bachelerie,
With many a sound of sondry melodye,
Unto the vilage, of which I yow tolde,
In this array the right way have they holde.

Grysild of this (God wot) ful innocent,
That for hir fashionèd was al the array,
To fetche water at a welle is went,
And cometh hom as soone as ever she may,
For wel she had herd say, that on that day
The marquys shulde wedde, and, if she might,
She wold have seyen somwhat of that sight.

She sayd, “I wol with other maydenes stonde,
That be my felawes, in oure dore, and see
The marquysesse, and I wil take in hond
To do at hom, as soone as it may be,
The labour which that longeth unto me,
And thenne may I at leysir hir byholde,
When they their way into the castel holde.”

And as she wold over the thresshold goon,
The marquys cam and gan hir for to calle.
And she set doun her water-pot anon
Bisides the threschold of this oxe stalle,
And doun upon hir knees she gan to falle,
With sobre countenaunce she knelith stille,
Til she had herd what was the lordes wille.

This thoughtful marquys spak unto this mayde
Ful soberly, and sayd in this manére:
“Wher is your fader, Grisildes?” he sayde.
And she with reverence and humble cheere
Answerde, “My lord, he is al redy here.”
And in she goth withouten more thought,
And to the marquys she hir fader brought.