THE CLERK'S TALE
green and fresh, recite you a song to gladden you, I trow; and let us stint of earnest matter. Hearken my song, that saith in this wise.
Lenvoy de Chaucer.
Grisilde is dead and eke her patience,
And both interr'd in far Italia's vale;
For which I cry in open audience
Let no man be so hardy as to assail
The patience of his wife, in hope to find
Grisildis', for so surely he shall fail.
O noble wives, ye sovereigns of sense,
Suffer no lowliness your tongues to nail,
Nor any clerk have cause, or find pretence,
To write of you so marvellous a tale
As of Grisilde long-suffering and kind,
Lest Chichevache devour you, to your bale.
Ape Echo, that will own no diffidence
But answereth ever up and down the dale ;
Be not made fools of for your innocence,
But sharply wield of governance the flail;
Imprint full well this lesson in your mind,
For common profit, sith it may avail.
Ye archwives, stand alway on your defence,
Sith as a camel ye be strong and hale,
And suffer men to do you none offence;
Ye slender wives, that bend in battle's gale,
Be terrible as tigers yon in Ind;
Aye clap as doth a mill-wheel, when ye rail.
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