The Tale

Nor widow, that contráried what he said, But said, he worthy was to have his life. And with that word up start that oldë wife Which that the knight saw sitting on the green. “Mercy,” quoth she, “my sovereign lady queen, Ere that your court departë, do me right. I taughtë this answér unto this knight, For which he plighted me his trothë there, The firstë thing I would of him requere, He would it do, if it lay in his might. Before this court then pray I thee, Sir Knight,” Quoth she, “that thou me take unto thy wife, For well thou know’st that I have kept thy life. If I say false, say nay, upon thy fay.” This knight answér’d, “Alas, and well-away! I know right well that such was my behest. For Goddë’s lovë choose a new request: Take all my good, and let my body go.” “Nay, then,” quoth she, “I shrew us bothë two, For though that I be old, and foul, and poor, I n’ould for all the metal nor the ore, That under earth is grave, or lies above, But if thy wife I were and eke thy love.” “My love?” quoth he, “nay, my damnatión, Alas! that any of my natión Should ever so foul disparáged be.” But all for nought; the end is this, that he Constrained was, that needs he must her wed, And take this oldë wife, and go to bed.