“That ye to me agree in al this thing.
Shew now your paciens in your ássentíng,
That thou me gavest and swor in yon villáge,
That day that makèd was oure mariáge.”

Whan she had herd al this she nought betrayed
Neyther in word, in cheer, or countenaunce,
(For, as it semede, she was nought dismayed);
She sayde, “Lord, al lieth in your plesaunce;
My child and I, with hertly obeisaunce,
Be youres al, and ye may save or spille
Your oune thing; werk al after your wille.

“Ther may no thing, so God my soule save,
Plese you, that may at al displesen me;
Nor I desire no thing for to have,
Nor drede for to lose, save only ye,
This wil is in myn hert, and ay shal be,
No length of tyme or deth may this deface,
Nor chaunge my corrage to another place.”

Glad was this marquis of hir answeryng,
But yit he feynèd as he were not so.
Al drery was his cheer and his lokýng,
Whan that he shold out of the chambre go.
Soon after this, a forlong way or tuo,
He prively hath told al his entent
Unto a man, and unto his wyf him sent.

A maner sergeant was this privé man,
The which that faithful oft he founden hadde
In thinges grete, and eek such folk wel can
Do execucioún in thinges badde;
The lord knew wel that he him loved and dradde.
And whan this sergeant wist his lordes wille,
Into the chamber he stalkèd him ful stille.

“Madame,” he sayde, “ye most forgive it me,
Though I do things to which men me constreyn;
Ye be so wys, that ful wel knowe ye,
That lordes hestes we may not gainsayn.
Ye may biwayl it or ye may compleyn;
But men must needes unto their wil obeye
And so wol I, there is no more to seye.

“This child I am comaundid for to take.”
And spak no more, but out the child he hente
Dispiteously, and gan a signe make,
As though he wold have slayn it, ere he wente.
Grisild must suffer al and al consent;
And as a lamb she sitteth meeke and stille,
And let this cruel sergeant do his wille.

Suspecious was the ill fame of this man,
Suspect his face, suspect his word also,
Suspect the tyme in which he this bigan.
Allas! hir doughter, that she lovèd so,
She wende he wold have burst hir herte a tuo;
But natheles she held her soft and stil,
Conformyng hir to al her housbondes wil.

But atte last to speken she bigan,
And mekely she to the sergeant preyde,
So as he was a worthy gentilman,
That she most kisse hir child, ere that it deyde.
And on hir arm this litel child she leyde,
With ful sad face, and gan the child to blesse,
And lullyd it and after gan it kesse.

And thus she sayd in hir benigne vois:
“Farwel, my child, I shal thee never see;
But since I thee have markèd with the cross,
Of Jesu Criste blessèd may thou be,
That for us deyde upon a cros of tree;
Thy soule, litel child, I him bytake,
For this night shalt thou deyen—for my sake.”

I trowe that to a nurse in this hard case
It had been sad this sighte for to see;
Wel might a moder than have cryed allas,
But natheles so stedefast was she,
That she endurèd al adversitee,
And to the sergeant mekely she sayde,
“Have her agayn your litel yonge mayde.

“Go now,” quoth she, “and do my lordes heste;
But one thing wil I pray you of your grace,
That save my lord forbede you atte leste,
Bury this litel body in som place,
That bestes and briddes do it no trespáce.”
But he no word wil to the purpos say,
But took the child and went upon his way.

This sergeant com unto this lord agayn,
And of Grisildes wordes and hir cheere
He tolde poynt for poynt, in short and playn,
And him presentith with his doughter deere.
Somwhat this lord hath pity in his manère,
But natheles his purpos held he stille,
As lordes do, whan thay wil have their wille;

And bad the sergeaunt that he privily
Sholde this childe ful softe wynde and wrappe,
With alle circumstaunces tendurly,
And cary it in a cofre, or in his lappe;
And upon peyne his heed off for to swappe
That no man shulde knowe of this entent,
Nor whence he com, nor whider that he went;