And sche for wonder took of it no keepe, heed Sche herde not what thing he to hir sayde, Sche ferd as sche hadde stert out of a sleepe, fared, started Til sche out of hir masidnesse abrayde. awoke Grisild, quod he, by God that for us deyde, died Thou art my wyf, non other I ne[158] have, Ne never had, as God my soule save. This is thy[159] doughter, which thou hast supposed To be my wif: that other faithfully Shal be myn heir, as I have ay purposed. Thow bar hem of thy body trewely. At Boloyne have I kept hem prively. Tak hem agayn, for now maistow not seye mayest thou That thou hast lorn noon of thy children tweye. lost And folk, that other weyes han seyd of me, I warn hem wel, that I have doon this deede done For no malice, ne for no cruelté, But for tassaye in thee thy wommanhede; to assay, womanhood And not to slen my children (God forbede!) forbid But for to kepe hem prively and stille quietly Til I thy purpos knewe, and al thy wille! “Grisild,” he said to her, as if in play, “How seems my wife and her fair looks to thee?” “Right well, my lord,” said she, “for in good fay I never saw a fairer bride than she; I pray God give you both prosperity; And so I hope that He will ever send You happiness enough to your lives’ end. “One thing I pray of you, and warn beside, That you goad not with any torturing This tender maid--like some you have sore tried For she is nurtured in her upbringing More tenderly--and such a gentle thing Might haply not adversity endure Like one whose nurture had been hard and poor.” And when this Walter saw her patientness, Her cheerful mien, and malice none at all; Though he so oft had tried her more or less, And she still firm and constant as a wall, Continuing ever her innocence over all: This sturdy marquis ’gan his heart to chide, Touch’d by her steadfast faith that never died. “This is enough, Griselda mine,” said he, “Be no more ill at ease, and fear no more! I have thy faith and strength and charity Tempted, as woman never was before, Both in thy wealth, and in thy rags so poor. Now do I know, dear wife, thy steadfastness:” And clasp’d her in his arms with many a kiss. But she for wonder took no heed of him, She heard not any of the words he spoke, She seemed as one that starteth from a dream Till she from her astonishment awoke. “Griselde,” cried he, “it was a cruel joke: Thou art my wife, none other one I have, Nor ever had--as God my soul shall save!