The Tale

Now wouldë some men say paráventure, That for my negligence I do no cure To tell you all the joy and all th’ array That at the feast was made that ilkë day. To which thing shortly answeren I shall: I say there was no joy nor feast at all, There was but heaviness and muchë sorrow: For privily he wed her on the morrow; And all day after hid him as an owl, So woe was him, his wifë look’d so foul. Great was the woe the knight had in his thought When he was with his wife to bed y-brought; He wallow’d, and he turned to and fro. This oldë wife lay smiling evermo’, And said, “Dear husband, benedicite , Fares every knight thus with his wife as ye? Is this the law of king Arthoúrë’s house? Is every knight of his thus dangerous? I am your owen love, and eke your wife, I am she, which that saved hath your life, And certes yet did I you ne’er unright. Why fare ye thus with me this firstë night? Ye farë like a man had lost his wit. What is my guilt? for God’s love tell me it, And it shall be amended, if I may.” “Amended!” quoth this knight; “alas, nay, nay, It will not be amended, never mo’; Thou art so loathly, and so old also, And thereto comest of so low a kind, That little wonder though I wallow and wind; So wouldë God, mine heartë wouldë brest!” “Is this,” quoth she, “the cause of your unrest?” “Yea, certainly,” quoth he; “no wonder is.” “Now, Sir,” quoth she, “I could amend all this, If that me list, ere it were dayës three, So well ye mightë bear you unto me. But, for ye speaken of such gentleness As is descended out of old richéss, That therefore shallë ye be gentlemen; Such arrogancy is not worth a hen. Look who that is most virtuous alway, Prive and apert, and most intendeth aye To do the gentle deedës that he can; And take him for the greatest gentleman. Christ will, we claim of him our gentleness, Not of our elders for their old richéss. For though they gave us all their heritage, For which we claim to be of high parage, Yet may they not bequeathë, for no thing, To none of us, their virtuous living That made them gentlemen called to be, And bade us follow them in such degree. Well can the wisë poet of Florence, That hightë Dante,