But one word, lordings, hearken, ere I go: It were full hard to findë now-a-days In all a town Griseldas three or two: For, if that they were put to such assays, The gold of them hath now so bad allays With brass, that though the coin be fair at eye, It wouldë rather break in two than ply.
For which here, for the Wifë’s love of Bath— Whose life and all her sex may God maintain In high mast’rý, and ellës were it scath— I will, with lusty heartë fresh and green, Say you a song to gladden you, I ween: And let us stint of earnestful mattére. Hearken my song, that saith in this mannére.
L’Envoy of Chaucer
“Griseld’ is dead, and eke her patience, And both at once are buried in Itále: For which I cry in open audience, No wedded man so hardy be t’ assail His wifë’s patience, in trust to find Griselda’s, for in certain he shall fail.
“O noble wivës, full of high prudence, Let no humility your tonguës nail: Nor let no clerk have cause or diligence To write of you a story of such marvail, As of Griselda patient and kind, Lest Chichëvache you swallow in her entrail.
“Follow Echo, that holdeth no silence, But ever answereth at the countertail; Be not bedaffed for your innocence, But sharply take on you the governail; Imprintë well this lesson in your mind, For common profit, since it may avail.
“Ye archiwivës, stand aye at defence, Since ye be strong as is a great camail, Nor suffer not that men do you offence. And slender wivës, feeble in battail, Be eager as a tiger yond in Ind; Aye clapping as a mill, I you counsail.
“Nor dread them not, nor do them reverence; For though thine husband armed be in mail, The arrows of thy crabbed eloquence Shall pierce his