When she had heard all this, she not amev’d Neither in word, in cheer, nor countenance (For, as it seemed, she was not aggriev’d); She saidë; “Lord, all lies in your pleasánce, My child and I, with hearty obeisánce Be yourës all, and ye may save or spill Your owen thing: work then after your will.
“There may no thing, so God my soulë save, Likë to you, that may displeasë me: Nor I desire nothing for to have, Nor dreadë for to lose, save only ye: This will is in mine heart, and aye shall be, No length of time, nor death, may this deface, Nor change my corage to another place.”
Glad was the marquis for her answering, But yet he feigned as he were not so; All dreary was his cheer and his looking When that he should out of the chamber go. Soon after this, a furlong way or two, He privily hath told all his intent Unto a man, and to his wife him sent.
A manner sergeant was this private man, The which he faithful often founden had In thingës great, and eke such folk well can Do executión in thingës bad: The lord knew well, that he him loved and drad. And when this sergeant knew his lordë’s will, Into the chamber stalked he full still.
“Madam,” he said, “ye must forgive it me, Though I do thing to which I am constrain’d; Ye be so wise, that right well knowë ye That lordës’ hestës may not be y-feign’d; They may well be bewailed and complain’d, But men must needs unto their lust obey; And so will I, there is no more to say.
“This child I am commanded for to take.” And spake no more, but out the child he hent Dispiteously, and gan a cheer to make As though he would have slain it ere he went. Griseldis must all suffer and consent: And as a lamb she sat there meek and still, And let this cruel sergeant do his will.