seemed by your speech and your viságe, The day that maked was our marriáge!
“But sooth is said—algate I find it true, For in effect it proved is on me— Love is not old as when that it is new. But certes, Lord, for no adversity, To dien in this case, it shall not be That e’er in word or work I shall repent That I you gave mine heart in whole intent.
“My Lord, ye know that in my father’s place Ye did me strip out of my poorë weed, And richëly ye clad me of your grace; To you brought I nought ellës, out of dread, But faith, and nakedness, and maidenhead; And here again your clothing I restore, And eke your wedding ring for evermore.
“The remnant of your jewels ready be Within your chamber, I dare safely sayn: Naked out of my father’s house,” quoth she, “I came, and naked I must turn again. All your pleasance would I follow fain: But yet I hope it be not your intent That smockless I out of your palace went.
“Ye could not do so dishonést a thing, That thilkë womb, in which your children lay, Shouldë before the people, in my walking, Be seen all bare: and therefore I you pray, Let me not like a worm go by the way: Remember you, mine owen Lord so dear, I was your wife, though I unworthy were.
“Wherefore, in guerdon of my maidenhead, Which that I brought and not again I bear, As vouchësafe to give me to my meed But such a smock as I was wont to wear, That I therewith may wrie the womb of her That was your wife: and here I take my leave Of you, mine owen Lord, lest I you grieve.”
“The smock,” quoth he, “that thou hast on thy back, Let it be still, and bear it forth with thee.” But well unnethës thilkë word he spake, But went his way for ruth and for pitý. Before the folk herselfë stripped she,