And preyed hir to han good fame, 1815 And that she nolde hem doon no shame, But yeve hem loos and good renoun, And do hit blowe in clarioun. 'Nay, wis!' quod she, 'hit were a vyce; Al be ther in me no Iustyce, (730) 1820 Me listeth not to do hit now, Ne this nil I not graunte you.' Tho come ther lepinge in a route, And gonne choppen al aboute Every man upon the croune, 1825 That al the halle gan to soune, And seyden: 'Lady, lefe and dere, We ben swich folk as ye mowe here. To tellen al the tale aright, We ben shrewes, every wight, (740) 1830 And han delyt in wikkednes, As gode folk han in goodnes; And Ioye to be knowen shrewes, And fulle of vyce and wikked thewes; Wherfor we preyen yow, a-rowe, 1835 That our fame swich be knowe In alle thing right as hit is.' 'I graunte hit yow,' quod she, 'y-wis. But what art thou that seyst this tale, That werest on thy hose a pale, (750) 1840 And on thy tipet swiche a belle!' 'Madame,' quod he, 'sooth to telle, I am that ilke shrewe, y-wis, That brende the temple of Isidis In Athenes, lo, that citee.' 1845 'And wherfor didest thou so?' quod she. 'By my thrift,' quod he, 'madame, I wolde fayn han had a fame, As other folk hadde in the toun, Al-thogh they were of greet renoun (760) 1850 For hir vertu and for hir thewes; Thoughte I, as greet a fame han shrewes, Thogh hit be [but] for shrewednesse, As gode folk han for goodnesse; And sith I may not have that oon, 1855 That other nil I noght for-goon. And for to gette of Fames hyre, The temple sette I al a-fyre. Now do our loos be blowen swythe, As wisly be thou ever blythe.' (770) 1860 'Gladly,' quod she; 'thou Eolus, Herestow not what they preyen us?' 'Madame, yis, ful wel,' quod he, 'And I wil trumpen hit, parde!' And tok his blakke trumpe faste, 1865 And gan to puffen and to blaste, Til hit was at the worldes ende. With that I gan aboute wende; For oon that stood right at my bak, Me thoughte, goodly to me spak, (780) 1870 And seyde: 'Frend, what is thy name? Artow come hider to han fame?' 'Nay, for-sothe, frend!' quod I; 'I cam noght hider, graunt mercy! For no swich cause, by my heed! 1875 Suffyceth me, as I were deed, That no wight have my name in honde. I woot my-self best how I stonde; For what I drye or what I thinke, I wol my-selven al hit drinke, (790) 1880 Certeyn, for the more part, As ferforth as I can myn art.'