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THE FIFTH ARTICLE

The fifth article of the first section telleth that you ought to be very loving and privy towards your husband above all other living creatures, moderately loving and privy towards your good and near kinsfolk in the flesh and your husband's kinsfolk, and very distant with all other men and most of all with overweening and idle young men, who spend more than their means, and be dancers, albeit they have neither land nor lineage; and also with courtiers or too great lords, and with all those men and women that be renowned of gay and amorous and loose life. . . .

For to show what I have said, that you ought to be very privy and loving with your husband, I set here a rustic ensample, that even the birds and the shy wild beasts, nay the savage beasts, have the sense and practice of this, for the female birds do ever follow and keep close to their mates and to none other and follow them and fly after them, and not after others. If the male birds stop, so also do the females and settle near to their mates; when the males fly away they fly after them, side by side. And likewise wild birds, be they ravens, crows, jackdaws, nay, birds of prey such as hawks, falcons, tercels and goshawks and the like, that be nurtured by persons strange to them in the beginning, after that they have taken food from those strangers, they love them more than others. So likewise is it

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with domestic and field animals, as with wild beasts. Of domestic animals you shall see how that a greyhound or mastiff or little dog, whether it be on the road, or at table, or in bed, ever keepeth him close to the person from whom he taketh his food and leaveth all the others and is distant and shy with them; and if the dog is afar off, he always has his heart and his eye upon his master; even if his master whip him and throw stones at him, the dog followeth, wagging his tail and lying down before his master to appease him, and through rivers, through woods, through thieves and through battles followeth him.
Another ensample may be taken from the dog Macaire, that saw his master slain within a wood, and when he was dead left him not, but lay down in the wood near to the dead man, and by day went to find food afar off and brought it back in his mouth and there returned without eating it, but lay down and drank and ate beside the corpse of his master, all dead within the wood. Afterwards this dog several times fought and attacked the man that had slain his master, and whenever he found him did assail and attack him; and in the end he overbore the man in the fields on the island of Notre Dame at Paris, and even to this day there be traces there of the lists that were made for the dog and for the field [of battle]. By God, at Niort I saw an old dog, that lay upon the pit wherein his master had been buried, that had been slain by the English, and monseigneur de Berry and a great number of lords were led there to see the marvel of this dog's loyalty and love, that day and night left not the pit, wherein was his master that the English

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had slain. And monseigneur de Berry caused ten francs to be given to him, the which were delivered to a neighbour to find food for him all his life.
So likewise is it with the beasts of the field; you shall see it in a sheep and a lamb, that follow and be privy with their masters and mistresses and with none other; and so too wild beasts, as boar, or stag or hind, that be wild by nature, follow and keep near unto their masters and mistresses and leave all other. Item, it is likewise even with wild beasts that be devouring and ravening, as with wolves, lions, leopards and the like, that be fierce, and proud and cruel, devouring and ravening; they too follow and serve and are privy with those who feed them and whom they love and are strange with all others. Now have you see divers strange ensamples, which be true and visible to the eye, by the which ensamples you see that the birds of the sky and the shy wild beasts and even the ravening beasts have the sense perfectly to love and be privy with their owners and those that be kind to them, and to be strange with others; wherefore for a better and stronger reason women, to whom God has given natural sense and who are reasonable, ought to have a perfect and solemn love for their husbands; and so I pray you to be very loving and privy with your husband who shall be.

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THE SIXTH ARTICLE

The sixth article of the first section saith that you shall be humble and obedient towards him that shall be your husband, the which article containeth in itself four particulars. The first particular saith that you shall be obedient to wit to him and to his commandments whatsoe'er they be, whether they be made in earnest or in jest, or whether they be orders to do strange things, or whether they be made concerning matters of small import or of great; for all things should be of great import to you, since he that shall be your husband hath bidden you to do them. The second part or particular is to understand that if you have some business to perform concerning which you have not spoken to him that shall be your husband, nor hath he bethought him concerning it, wherefore hath he nothing ordered nor forbidden, if the business be urgent and it behoves to perform it before he that shall be your husband knoweth it, and if you be moved to do after one fashion and you feel that he that shall be your husband would be pleased to do after another fashion, do you act according to the pleasure of your husband that shall be, rather than according to your own, for his pleasure should come before yours. The third particular is to understand that if he that shall be your husband shall forbid you to do anything,

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whether he forbid you in jest or in earnest or whether it be concerning small matters or great, you must watch that you do not in any manner that which he has forbidden. The fourth particular is that you be not arrogant and that you answer not back your husband that shall be, nor his words, nor contradict what he saith, above all before other people. Taking the first of the four particulars, which biddeth you to be humble and obedient to your husband, the Scripture bids it, Ad Ephesios v°, where it is said: Mulieres viris suis subdite sint sicut domino, quoniam vir caput est mulieris, sicut Christus caput est Ecclesie. That is to say, it is the command of God that wives be subject to their husbands as their lords, for the husband is the head of the wife, even as our Lord Jesus Christ is the head of the Church. Thus it followeth that even as the Church is subject and obedient to the commandments, great and small, of Jesus Christ as to her head, even so wives ought to be subject to their husbands as to their head and obey them and all their commandments great and small. And so did Our Lord command, as saint Jerome saith, and likewise the Decretal, XXXIIIa Questione, quinto capitulo: Cum caput. Wherefore the apostle writing unto the Hebrews saith in the XIIIth chapter: Obedite prepositis vestris et subjacete eis etc. That is to say, obey them that have rule over you and submit yourselves. Again it is plainly shown unto you that it is our Lord's word, for that it is said in the beginning that woman ought to be in subjection to man. For it is said that when at the beginning of the world Adam was

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made, our Lord spake these words and said: Let us make him an help meet for him. And then from Adam's rib he made woman as help and subject, and so it useth to be, and it is reason. Wherefore a woman ought to consider well of what condition is he that she shall take, before that she taketh him. For it is as a poor Roman said, who without his knowledge or desire, was elected emperor by the Romans, and when they brought him unto the throne and the crown he was all astonied; and one of the first things that he said unto the people was this: "Have a care what you do or have done, for so it is that when you have elected me and I be made emperor, wot you surely that thenceforth my words shall be sharp as razors newly ground". That is to wit that whosoever obeyed not his commands when he was made emperor, should be under pain of losing his head. Thus let a woman watch well how and to whom she shall be wedded, for however poor or lowly he may have been before, nathless for all time to come after the marriage, he ought to be and is sovereign and can increase or diminish all [that she hath]. Wherefore you should think rather of character than of fortune in your husband, for you cannot change him afterwards, and when you have taken him hold him in love and love and obey him humbly. For many women have made great gain and come to great honour by their obedience, and others by their disobedience have been hindered and brought low. Concerning this matter of obedience, and the good that cometh to the woman that is obedient unto her husband, I can draw an ensample that once was

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translated by master Francis Petrarch, who was crowned poet at Rome, the which tale runneth thus:
On the borders of Piedmont in Lombardy, as 'twere at the foot of the mountain that divideth France and Italy and is called in those parts Monte Video, there is a long and lusty country, full of castles and towns and adorned with woods, meadows, rivers, vines, hayfields and ploughed fields; and this land is hight the land of Saluzzo, the which of old times ruled over the neighbouring country and of old times to this day hath been ruled by certain nobles and powerful princes hight marquises of Saluzzo, whereof one of the noble and most powerful was named Walter, to whom all the other folk of this land, as barons, knights, squires, burgesses, merchants, and labourers were obeisant. This Walter, marquis of Saluzzo, was fair in person, strong and nimble, of noble blood, rich possessions and great lordship, full of all honour and courtesy, and perfectly furnished with the precious gifts of nature. There was one vice in him, for he much loved solitude, and considered not the time to come, and by no means would he marry. All his joy and delight was in rivers and woods, in hounds and birds, and he took no thought for the government of his signory; wherefore his barons besought and admonished him to marry, and his people were in great sadness, and most of all because that he would not incline him to marriage. One day they came together in great number, and the worthiest among them came unto him, and by the mouth of one of them spake these words unto him: "Oh thou, our lord marquis, the love that we bear to thee giveth us courage to speak these poor words. Since we like well

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and ever have liked thee and all the things that are in thee, and we hold ourselves happy to have such a lord, yet one thing lacketh in thee, the which if thou wilt grant it to us, we hold ourselves in better felicity than all our neighbours: it is to wit that you will please to incline your heart to the bonds of marriage and that your past liberty be a little restrained and brought within the marriage law. Thou knowest, Sire, how that the days pass and flee away and never return. And although thou art in thy green youth, nathless, from day to day death menaceth and approacheth thee, for it spareth no age and no man may escape it. All must die, but none knoweth how, nor when, nor what day, nor by what end. We, then, thy people, who never yet refused thy behest, we pray thee very humbly that we have liberty to choose thee a lady of fit lineage, of noble birth and fair person, adorned with goodness and good sense, whom it shall please thee to take in marriage and through whom we hope to have lineage and a lord of thy line to succeed thee. Sire, do this grace to thy loyal subjects, if ought were to befal thy high and noble person and thou wert to depart from this world it should not be without heir and successor and sad and thy mournful subjects should not be left without a lord". When they had made an end the marquis was moved to pity for his subjects and replied to them very gently, saying: "My friends, you constrain me to that in which I can never find my heart; for I rejoiced me in liberty and in that free will which seldomtime is found in marriage, as they know well that have proved it. Nathless for your love do I submit me to your will.

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True it is that marriage is a doubtful thing and oftentimes children be not like their father. Nathless if the father have any good of them, he ought not therefore to say that it is his by right, but that it cometh from God above; to Him do I commend the fate of my marriage, in hope that of his bounty he will grant me a wife with whom I can live in the peace and quiet that be necessary to my salvation. I grant you, my friends, and promise you that I will take a wife; but I am in mind to choose her myself, and I charge you that you promise me one thing: assuredly it is this, that whomsoever I shall take to wife, be she daughter to the Prince of the Romans, or a serf, or another, you shall love her and honour her entirely, and that none of you be ill content with her after my choice, nor grudge nor murmur against her". Then all the barons and subjects of the marquis were rejoiced that they had their will, of the which thing they had oftentimes despaired. With one voice they thanked the marquis their lord, and promised with hearty will the reverence and obedience which he had asked of them. Great joy was there in the palace of Salazzo, and the marquis granted a day for his bridal whereon he should take a wife, and he bade make great preparations, greater than ever before was made by any other marquis, and likewise bade summon kinsmen and friends, neighbours and ladies of the land for the aforesaid day; the which thing was solemnly performed and while the preparations were a_making, the marquis of Saluzzo, as was his custom, went forth to take his delight in hunting and hawking. Not far from the castle of Saluzzo there stood a little village wherein dwelt a few labourers, by the which

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village the marquis was often wont to pass, and among the aforesaid labourers was an old man and poor, who could not help himself, and was called Janicula. This poor man had a daughter hight Griselda, fair enough to sight, but fairer still in life and virtuous ways; she had been poorly fostered up by the labour of her father; never had she known delicious meats nor delicate things. A ripe and virtuous heart dwelt sweetly in her virgin breast; gently and in great humility she supported and sustained her father's age and fostered him; and she diligently kept a few sheep that he had, going with them and spinning continually with her distaff in the fields. And when Griselda homeward came at eve and brought back her beasts to her father's house, she gave them forage, and prepared for herself and her father the food that God gave them. And in brief all the courtesy and service that she might do unto her father, she gently performed it. The marquis was aware by common renown of the virtue and great goodness of this same Griselda, and when he rode to take his pleasure he oftentimes looked upon her, and her fair ways and great goodness laid hold upon his heart. And in the end he determined in his heart that Griselda and none other should by him be raised to be his wife and lady of Saluzzo, and he bade his lords to the wedding on the day determined. That day drew near, and the lords, nothing knowing of the maid that the marquis was minded to take, were sore astonied. Nathless they knew well that the marquis had caused to be made rich robes, girdles, brooches and rings measured upon a maiden like in stature to Griselda. So it befel that the

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wedding day was come and all the palace of Saluzzo was filled with barons and knights, with ladies and damsels, burgesses and other folk, but no news was there of their lord's bride, whereat they marvelled much; nay, more, the hour of the dinner drew near, and all the officers were ready each to do his office. Then the marquis of Saluzzo, as one that would go forth to meet his bride, set out from his palace, and a great troop of lords and ladies, minstrels and heralds followed after him. But the maid Griselda knew nought of all this, for that same morning she arrayed and cleaned and ordered her father's house, that she might go with the other maidens, her neighbours, to see their lord's bride. And even as the marquis drew nigh Griselda was bearing a water_pot upon her head to her father's house, and then came the marquis with all his company, and called the maid by name and asked her where her father was. Griselda set her pot upon the ground and on her knees, humbly and with great reverence, answered: "Lord, he is in the house". "Go to him", said the marquis, "and bid him come speak with me." And she went. Then the poor man Janicula came out of the house. The marquis took him by the hand and led him aside, and said thus to him secretly: "Janicula, I wot well that thou hast ever loved and dost love me, and what pleaseth me should please thee likewise. One thing I would have of thee, to wit that thou wilt give me thy daughter to wife". The poor man dared not speak, and after a short space he answered very humbly on his knees: "Lord, I ought neither to like nor to mislike aught save what pleaseth thee, for thou art

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my lord ". Then said the marquis: "Go into thine house alone, thou and thy daughter, for I would ask her something". The marquis went into the house of the poor man Janicula, as is aforesaid, and all the people remained outside and much, they marvelled; and the maiden kept her close to her father, fearful, shamefast and abashed at the sudden coming of her lord and his great and noble company, for she had never learned to see so great a guest in their house. The marquis spoke to her and these were his words; "Griselda, it pleaseth thy father and me that thou shalt be my wife, and I suppose well that thou wilt not refuse me, but I have a thing to ask thee before thy father; to wit, that if I take thee to wife, the which thing shall be even now, I would know if thou wilt incline thy heart entirely to do my will, in such manner that I may do with thee and all that concerneth thee, as best meseemeth, without argument or contradiction by thee, either in word or deed, in sign or thought?" Then Griselda, abashed and marvelling much at this great thing, answered: "Lord, I know well that I am not worthy to be called thy wife, nor even to be called thy servant wench, but if it please thee and fortune offer it to me, never will I wittingly do or think anything against thy will, and never will I deny anything that thou mayst do against me". "It is enough", said the marquis, and took the maiden by the hand and led her forth from the house into the midst of his lords and his people and spoke thus: "My friends, this is my wife, your lady, love and fear and honour her, and if you love me, love her very dearly". And for that she should bring with her no relic of the ill hap of poverty, the marquis

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ordered the ladies and matrons to undress her all naked from foot to head, and clothe her anew in rich robes and bridal array. Then set the ladies to work: some dressed her, others shod her, others set on her girdle, others pinned brooches upon her, and sewed her with pearls and precious stones, others combed their lady's hair and dressed her head and set a rich crown thereupon, that she had never seen the like and it was small wonder that she marvelled. Who then saw a poor girl, brown with the sun and thin from poverty, so nobly adorned and richly crowned and suddenly transformed so that the people scarce knew her, well might he marvel thereat. Then the lords took their lady and joyfully led her to church and there the marquis set a ring upon her finger and wedded her after the ordinance of holy Church and the custom of the country. And when the divine office was over, the lady Griselda was seated on a white palfrey and by all the throng was accompanied and brought to the palace, where all manner of instruments sounded forth. And the wedding was celebrated and the day was passed in great joy and consolation by the Marquis and all his friends and subjects. And the lady was so filled with sense and bore her so worshipfully with her lord and husband, this poor lady Griselda shone so with divine grace, that each man said she seemed not to be brought up and nurtured in a shepherd's or labourer's cot, but rather in a royal or imperial palace. And she was so loved and cherished and honoured by all that had known her from her childhood, that they could scarce believe that she was the poor man Janicula's daughter.

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The fair maid was of such discreet life and sweet eloquence that she drew the hearts of all to love her, not only the marquis's subjects and neighbours, but the folk of all the provinces round about; and the lords and ladies came to visit her by reason of her good fame, and all went from her rejoiced and comforted. And thus the marquis and Griselda lived happily in the palace in peace and quiet, in the grace of God and men; and this lady not only busied herself wisely and diligently with all the homely arts that belong unto women, but at the behest of her lord and in his presence she wisely and diligently busied herself likewise with public affairs. For when there arose debate and discord among nobles, she so appeased them by her fair words, ripe judgment and good equity, that all with one voice said that this lady had been sent them by heaven for the salvation of the people. Not long time after, the lady Griselda grew big with child and then bore a fair daughter, and the marquis and all the people of the land had thereof great joy and consolation, albeit they had liever that she had had a boy. Time passed and the days came when the marquis's daughter was weaned. Then the marquis, who loved his wife much for the great virtue that he saw increase in her daily, bethought him to assay her and tempt her sorely. He came into her chamber, showing her a troubled countenance and as one wrathful said thus: "O thou, Griselda, although that thou art at present raised to this pleasant dignity, yet I trow thou hast not forgotten thine estate in time part, and how and in what manner thou didst enter this palace; thou hast been honoured and to me thou

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art still lief and dear; but it is not as thou thinkest in the mind of my vassals, and especially since thou hast a child. For they have great scorn to be subject to a lady born of such small parents and low estate, and I desire, as their lord, to have peace with them; so must I bow and consent to their will and not to my own, and do with thy daughter a thing that could not be more sorrowful to my heart, the which thing I would not do without thy witting. So will I that thou should assent and lend thy free will thereunto, and bear patiently what shall be done, showing me that patience that thou didst promise at the beginning of our marriage". When the marquis ended these words, which in good sooth pierced her to the heart, the lady neither changed hue nor showed any sign of sadness, but humbly to her lord she answered: "Thou art my lord, and I and this little maid be thine; do what thou wilt with thine own. Nothing can be pleasing to thee that ought not likewise to please me, and this have I so rooted in the midi of my heart that no length of time, nor death itself can efface it, and all other things may happen before I change my mind in this". Then the marquis, hearing his wife's reply, and seeing her steadfast and humble mien, had great joy in his heart, but he hid it and departed from her with sad and dreary looks. Soon after this the marquis called to him a loyal and secret man of his, in whom he had all trust, and committed to this sergeant all his intent in the matter of his daughter, and sent him to his lady. The sergeant came before the lady and soberly spake these words to her: "Madam, I pray thee to forgive me and

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impute not to me that which I am constrained to do. Thou art a wise lady and knowest what it is to be beneath lords whose behests never by force nor by guile may be resisted. Madam, I am enforced to take this child and perform what I am bidden". Then the lady, remembering her lord's words in her heart, understood well and misdoubted that her daughter must die. She took heart virtuously and comforted herself, vanquishing nature for to fulfil her promise and acquit herself and do her lord's bidding. And sighing not nor showing other mark of sorrow, she took her child and looked long upon it and gently kissed it and made the sign of the cross upon it; then gave she it to the sergeant, thus saying: "Go now and do and accomplish fully all that my lord hath commanded thee; yet would I pray thee that the tender body of this maid be not eaten by birds or wild beasts, save it be so ordered thee". The sergeant left the lady, carrying the child, and privily came to the marquis and showed him his daughter, and told him how that he had found the lady of great courage, and without contradiction obedient to him. The marquis considered his wife's great virtue and looked upon his daughter and had fatherly compassion upon her, and he would not change the hardness of his purpose, but he bade the sergeant, in whom he had trust, to wrap up the child as gently as might be for her ease, and to set her in a pannier upon a mule with gentle paces, and without delay carry her secretly to Bologna the Rich, to his sister that was wife to the count of Perugia; and to show to his sister upon the love she bore him, that she should have the

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child fostered and taught in all gentleness, and do it so privily that neither her husband the count nor any living wight should ever know thereof. The which sergeant forthwith departed by night and carried the maid to Bologna the Rich and delivered his message full diligently as he was bidden. And the countess received her niece with great joy and did very wisely all that the marquis her brother had asked of her. Thus patiently did Griselda pass this stormy time, the which pierced her entrails, and firmly in her heart she believed that her child was dead and slain; and the marquis bore himself as aforetime to his wife, nor spoke word to her of her daughter, and often looked upon her face, her bearing and her cheer, to see and subtly to assay whether he could see in her any sign of grief, but no change of heart could he understand or see in her, but ever the same glad service, the same love, the same courage; for the lady was ever as she had been unto her lord, nor showed she any sadness nor spake of her daughter in the presence of the marquis or in his absence. Thus the marquis and his wife passed four years together in great love, leading a loving and peaceful life. And at the end of four years the lady Griselda bore a son of marvellous beauty, wherefore the marquis and his friends and subjects and all the country were full of joy. When the child was weaned from his nurse and two years old, growing in great beauty, the marquis was moved again to try his marvellous and perillous assay and came to his wife and said: "Thou knowest and hast heard how that my people were ill content with our marriage and especially since they have

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seen that thou art not barren and bearest children. Nathless never were my barons and my people so ill content as they be now, especially for that thou hast born a male child, and they say often and mine ears have heard them murmur and say mockingly: 'When Walter is agone, then shall the goodman Janicula be our lord; lo to what a lord shall this noble land be subject!' Every day there rise such murmurs; and by reason of these words and fears, I, that would live in peace with my subjects, and am in great fear for my life, am constrained and moved to do with this child as I did with his sister, the which thing I tell unto thee, that a sudden sorrow may not shake thy heart". O what sorrowful thoughts must this lady have hid in her heart, remembering the foul death of her daughter and that the like was ordained for her only son of two years old! Who is there, not only say I among women, that be tender of nature and loving to their children, but among the strongest men of courage that could be found, who could support such a sentence on his only son? Listen, ye queens, princesses and countesses and all other women, and hear what answer the lady made unto her lord and take example: "My lord", quoth she, "I said before and again I say it, that naught will I or will I not, save that which pleaseth thee. Thou art lord of me and of my children. Do therefore as thou wilt with thine own and ask not my consent. When first I entered thy palace, I put off my poor clothes and my own will and affection and put on thine, wherefore all that thou desirest, I desire. Certes if I had prescience to know thy thoughts and desires before thou toldest them to me, whatsoever

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they were I would accomplish them after my power, for naught is there in the world, neither parents, nor friends, nor mine own life that that can compare with thy love'. The marquis of Saluzzo, hearing his wife's words and marvelling in his heart at her great virtue and steadfastness without compare and at the true love that she bore him, answered her not, but went forth with eyes cast down, as though heavy at that which he must do unto his son, and soon afterwards, as he had done aforetime, sent a loyal sergeant secretly to the lady. The which sergeant after many excuses, showing her gently that he must needs obey his lord, very humbly and piteously prayed his lady's pardon if before he had done aught to displease her and so must do again, and besought her to forgive his great cruelty and asked for the child. The lady, without delay or sign of grief, took her fair son in her arms, and without tear or sighing, looked long upon him, and as she had done to his sister, she signed him with the sign of the cross, and blessed him, tenderly kissing him, and delivered him to the sergeant, saying: "Take him, my friend, and do as is bidden thee; one thing I pray thee as I did before, if it may be, that thou wilt save the tender limbs of this child that they be not disturbed or devoured by birds and wild beasts". The sergeant took the child and bore him secretly to his lord and told him all that he had heard from his lady, and more than ever did the marquis marvel at the great and steadfast courage of his wife, and had he not known well the great love she bore her children he might have thought that such courage came not of

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humanity but of beastial cruelty, and he saw full clearly that this wife loved nothing beneath heaven more than her husband. The marquis sent his son secretly to Bologna to his sister, even as he had sent his daughter, and his sister, the countess of Perugia, after the will of her brother the marquis fostered his daughter and son so wisely that none might know whose children they were, until the marquis ordained as shall appear hereafter. Now certes the assay which the marquis of Saluzzo, as a cruel and exacting husband, had made of his wife might well have sufficed him, without trying nor tormenting her more. But some there be who, when that they have set forth upon the path of suspicion, know not how to end nor slake their purpose. When it had befallen thus, the marquis conversing with his wife looked often upon her, to see whether she showed him any change by reason of the things that were past, but never saw he in her any variance or altered cheer. Day after day he found her joyous and loving and more obedient, so that all could see that in these two persons there was but one mind, the which mind and will was chiefly the husband's, for as is aforesaid, she had no desire of her own, but laid all to her husband's will. While the marquis lived thus lovingly with his wife, in great repose and in great joy, he learned that ill fame was abroad concerning him, to wit that the marquis was shamed that, taking no heed of his great lineage, he had taken in marriage the daughter to the poor man Janicula, and had had of her two children, and therefore he had had them done to death and cast away none knew where. And although

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they loved him well aforetime as their natural lord, nathless for this reason they held him in hatred, the which he well knew. Nathless, by no means would he stint nor soften his cruel purpose, but took thought again and again to prove and tempt his wife by a yet stronger argument and harder test, by wedding another woman. Twelve years were then passed since his daughter's birth; the marquis sent privily to Rome to the holy father the Pope and sought of him sacred bulls, by the which the rumour should go forth to his people that the marquis had leave of the Pope of Rome, for the peace and repose of himself and his subjects, to lay aside his first marriage, and take in lawful wedlock another woman. The rude people thought full well that it had been so, and were roused against their lord. The cold tidings of this bull, by which the marquis should take another wife, came to the ears of Griselda, daughter of Janicula, and her heart was full woe, as is no marvel. But she that once had submitted herself and all that was hers to her lord's will, freely considered and took counsel with herself, and steeled her heart and took comfort, disposing her to await all that he to whom she was in submission should ordain. Then did the marquis send a note to the Count of Perugia and his sister, bidding them bring home his children, without saying whose they might be, and his sister wrote that she would do his will. Their coming was speedily spread abroad and the rumour went forth throughout all the land that a fair virgin sprung of a great lineage was coming to wed the marquis of Saluzzo.

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The count of Perugia accompanied by great lords and ladies set forth from Bologna and brought with him the son and daughter of the marquis. And the boy was of the age of eight years and the maiden of twelve, and she was full fair of form and face and ripe for marriage, and she was arrayed in rich fluffs and garments and gems, and was to reach Saluzzo upon a certain day ordained. While that the count of Perugia and his children were on the road, the marquis of Saluzzo called Griselda his wife and in the presence of some of his barons spake to her thus: "In time past I had pleasure enow in thy company in marriage, for thy fair ways and not for thy lineage, but now, as I see well, great fortune beareth heavily upon me and I am in great servitude, and I may not consent that a poor labouring man such as thou art sprung from should have so great lordship over my vassals. My people constrain me and the Pope alloweth me to take another wife than thee, and she is upon the road and soon shall be here. Be thou then strong of heart, Griselda, and void thy place to this other who cometh. Take thy dower and be appeased. Go forth to thy father's house; for nothing that befalleth man or woman in this world can last for ever". Then answered Griselda and said thus: "My lord I wot well or at least I wist it, that betwixt thy magnificence and my poverty there might be neither proportion nor likelihood, neither did I ever deem myself worthy to be thy wife, nor so much as thy chamberer; and in this palace where thou broughtest me and didst make me lady, I take God to witness that

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I ever deemed and demeaned myself thy servant, and for all the time that I have dwelt with thee I give thee thanks, and now I am ready to return to my father's house, wherein to pass my age and die a happy and honourable widow, that to such a lord was wed. I leave my place to God, and may it please Him to send a full good virgin to that place where I have very joyfully dwelt, and since thus it pleaseth thee, I go without ill or hard thought. And as to my dower that thou hast bidden me to take with me, I see what it is. Thou knowest well that when thou didst take me at the door of my father Janicula's house, thou didst cause me to be stripped naked and clad in thy robes, wherein I came to thee, nor ever brought I with me other riches or dowry, save only faith, loyalty, reverence and poverty. See here this robe which I grip from me, and the ring with which thou didst wed me, which I restore to thee; the other rings, jewels, garments and adornments wherewith I was adorned and enriched are in thy chamber. Naked came I from my father's house, and naked must I return there, save that I think it would be an unworthy thing that this womb, in which thy children lay, should appear all bare before the people; wherefore, if it please thee and not otherwise, I pray thee in guerdon of my maidenhead, which I brought to thy palace and bear not thence again, that ye vouchsafe to order that a smock be left me, wherewith I may cover the womb of her that was thy wife and lady, and that for thine honour I go forth at eventide". Then the marquis could scarce restrain his tears for the ruth that he had for his very loyal wife. He

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turned away his face and weeping bade them to give her a single smock at eventide. Thus it was done; and at eventide she stripped her of all her clothes, and put off her shoes and the ornaments that were on her head, and humbly she clad herself in the one smock that her lord had given her, and was content therewith, and with head and feet all bare she departed from the palace, and with her went barons and knights, ladies and maidens, weeping and considering her great virtues and loyalty, and marvellous goodness and patience. All wept, but she shed no tear, but honestly and simply, with eyes upon the ground, fared towards the house of her father Janicula, who heard the noise of this great company drawing nigh. And because that Janicula was old and wise and had always held his daughter's marriage in suspicion, thinking that when his lord was weary of so lowly a marriage, with so poor a creature, he, that was a great lord, would lightly send her away, he was adrad and came quickly to the door and saw that it was his daughter all naked; then hastily took he the poor, torn dress which she had left long ago, and weeping ran to meet his daughter and kissed her and clad and covered her with this old dress. And when Griselda was come to the threshold of her father's house, showing no semblance of scorn or anger, she turned her to the lords, ladies and maidens that had accompanied her, and very gently and humbly thanked them for their escort and company, and said and showed to them by fair, soft words how that for the love of God they should not say, or think, or believe that her lord the marquis had done her any wrong, and that it was not so, but that he had good cause to do all that

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he pleased with her, that was bound to suffer and bear it. And she bade them wot well that naught was displeasing to her, and admonished them for the love of God to love their husbands truly and full cordially and to serve and honour them with all their might, and that they could have no greater good, nor higher renown, nor better praise than this, and bade their farewell. And thus she entered her father's house and the lords and ladies who had accompanied her returned, weeping and sore sighing and moaning, so that they might not look upon each other nor speak. Griselda with all things was content; forgetting and caring naught for the great riches that she had had, and the great service, reverence and obedience that had been shown to her, she dwelt humbly with her father as aforetime, poor in spirit and in full great humility towards her poor friends and her father's old neighbours and lived a full lowly life. And well may the sorrow and small comfort of poor Janicula be imagined, that in his old age saw his daughter in such poor and small estate, after such great and high honour and wealth; but it was a marvellous good thing to see how benignantly, humbly and wisely she cared for him, and when she saw him heavy how wisely she comforted him, and afterwards led him to speak of another matter. Many days passed as hath been said, and the count of Perugia and his noble company drew nigh, and all the people of the country murmured against the nuptials of the marquis. The count of Perugia, brother to the marquis, sent several knights ahead to show his brother the marquis of Saluzzo the day of his coming and that he was bringing with him the virgin that the marquis

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was to wed; for in troth the count of Perugia knew not that the children that the countess his wife had bred up were that same marquis's children, for the countess of Perugia had hidden the matter from her husband, when she looked to the nurture of her niece and nephew, and from the countess's words the count thought them children of some strange land, as the children showed by their fairways. And the count hoped that, when the maid should be wedded to the marquis and the fame thereof should go forth through the world, it should soon be known who the father might be. Then the marquis of Saluzzo bade seek Griselda, and bid her come forthwith to his palace; and she refused not and came. And the marquis said to her: "Griselda, the maiden that I must wed shall be here to_morrow at dinner, and for that I desire that she and the count, my brother, and the other lords of their company be honourably received, so that each be honoured according to his estate, and especially for love of the virgin that cometh to me, and I have in my palace no woman or chambermaid that knoweth so well how to do it after my will as thou dost (for thou knowest my ways and how such folk should be received and thou knowest all the rooms and places and governance of my palace); therefore it is my will that thou take no thought for times past, nor be shamed of thy poor array, and notwithstanding thy small estate do thou take upon thee the ordering of all my affairs and all the officers of my house shall obey thee". Quoth Griselda gladly: "My lord, not only willingly but with all my heart will I do all that I may to do thy pleasure, and never shall I be weary or burdened thereby, nor feign

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therein, as long as the relics of my poor spirit shall remain within my body". Then Griselda like unto a poor serving maid, took the lowly tools and delivered them to the household and bade some to clean the palace and others the stables, and prayed the officers and the chambermaids that each should do her own task in due place, and she began to dight the beds and the chambers, spreading the rich carpets and all the broideries and needlework that belonged to the garnishing of the palace, as befitted the reception of her lord's wife. And albeit Griselda was in poor estate and in the garment of a poor maid, yet seemed she to all who saw her a woman of great honour and marvellous prudence. Such virtue, such honour and such obedience were enow that all ladies should marvel thereat. The next day at the hour of tierce, the count and with him the damsel and her brother and all the company entered Saluzzo. And all marvelled at the beauty of the maiden and her brother and at their goodly port, and some there were that said: "The marquis Walter doth well to change his marriage, for this wife is tenderer and of nobler birth than Janicula's daughter". Thus in great joy they entered and dismounted before the palace. Griselda beheld all and seemed of good comfort in this great thing that so closely touched her, and naught was she abashed of her poor robe, but with glad cheer came from afar to meet the damsel, and from afar greeted her upon her knees, saying: "Welcome, madam", and so likewise to the son and then to the count and humbly saluted them saying: "Be you welcome with my lady". And she

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led each to his room that was richly arrayed. And when they had seen and considered the deeds and the bearing of Griselda, all marvelled how that such honour and reverence could be in so poor a garb. Griselda after this went to the damsel and to the child, and could in no wise leave them. For an hour she gazed upon the maiden's beauty and the gracious bearing of the young boy, and she wearied not in praising them. The hour drew near when all should sit down to meat, and then the marquis called Griselda to him before them all and in a loud voice quoth he: "How likest thou this my wife, Griselda? Is she not fair and honourable enow?" Griselda, wisely and aloud and upon her knees answered: "Certes, my lord, I trow that never saw I a fairer and more honourable. My lord, with her you may lead a joyful and honourable life, the which thing in good faith do I desire; but, my lord, I do beseech and warn you that you prick not with strange torments this new wife, for, my lord, you shall bethink you that she is young and sprung of a great line and tenderly fostered, and she could not endure them as the other hath endured, to my thinking". Then the marquis, hearing Griselda's wise and gentle words and considering the good cheer and great constancy that she showed and ever had, felt a piteous ruth in his heart and could no more withhold to show his will, and in the presence of them all and in a loud voice he spake thus: "O Griselda! Griselda! I see and know and am content with thy true faith and loyalty; and thy love for me, thy constant obedience and true humility I have assayed and well proved, and

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am constrained thereby to say that never, I wist, hath any man beneath heaven assayed his wife as sore as I have thee". Then Griselda blushed, with bent head, in honest shame for the great praise wherewith she was praised by the marquis her lord before so many people. The marquis weeping took her in his arms and kissed her and said: "Thou only art my wife and none other will I ever have. This is thy daughter, whom thou hast supposed to be my wife, and this child is thy son; the which children all our subjects wist were lost. Know then, all ye that thought the contrary, that I was in mind curiously and rigorously to prove this my loyal wife, and not to contemn nor to despise her, and I have had her children privily bred up by my sister at Bologna and have nor harmed nor slain them". And when the lady Griselda heard her husband's words, she fell in a swoon before him to the ground, for the joy that she had to see her children. They raised her up and when she was recovered she took her two children and gently embraced and kissed them, so that they were covered with her tears, and none might take them from her arms, the which was a piteous thing to see. The ladies and the damsels, weeping for joy, took their lady Griselda and led her to a chamber and stripped her of her poor dress and array, and clad her in others and honoured her as befitted a marquise. Then was there such great and solemn rejoicing for that the marquis's children were come back, to the inestimable comfort of their mother and of the marquis and his friends and subjects, that the great joy thereof was spread throughout the land, and many tears of pity were shed that day in the palace of Saluzzo, and none

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wearied of faithfully recording the great and unmatched virtues of Griselda, who seemed rather the daughter of an emperor for her bearing, or of Solomon for her prudence, than the child of the poor Janicula. Greater and more joyous was the feast than was the revel of their bridal, and the marquis and his lady lived together in great love and peace and concord for the space of twenty years. And as to Janicula, father of Griselda, of whom he had taken no heed in time past, to prove that old man's daughter, the said marquis brought him to the palace of Saluzzo and there held him in great honour all the days of his life. And the marquis married his daughter to a great and powerful lord, and when his son was of age he married him likewise, and they had children whom he lived to see; and after his gracious end, he left his son as his heir and successor in Saluzzo, to the great consolation of all his friends and subjects. Dear sister, this story was translated by master Francis Petrarch, crowned poet at Rome, in no wise only to move good ladies to be patient in the tribulations that they suffer from their husbands for the love of those same husbands alone, but 'twas translated to show that since God and the church and reason will that they be obedient and since their husbands will that they have much to suffer, and since to escape worse things it behoves them of need to submit them in all things to the will of their husbands and to suffer patiently all that those husbands will, and since again and nathless these good ladies ought to hide and be silent concerning them and notwithstanding appease them and recall them and ever with good cheer bring

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themselves nigh again to the grace and love of those husbands that be mortal, by how much the greater reason behoveth it for men and women to suffer patiently the tribulations which God, who is immortal, eternal and everlasting, sendeth unto them. And not_withstanding the death of friends, the loss of goods and children and lineage, discomfiture by enemies, captures, slayings, losses, fire, tempest, storms of weather, floods of water, or other sudden tribulations, ever ought we to suffer patiently and return, join and recall ourselves lovingly and beseechingly to the love of the immortal ruler, eternal and everlasting God, by the ensample of this poor woman, born in poverty, of lowly folk without honour or learning, who so much suffered for her mortal friend. And I, that have set the tale here merely to lesson you, have not set it here to apply it to you, nor because I would have such obedience from you, for I am not worthy thereof, and also I am no marquis nor have I taken in you a shepherdess, and I am not so foolish, so overweening nor of so small sense that I know not well that 'tis not for me to assault nor to assay you thus, nor in like manner. God keep me from trying you in this way or in others, under colour of false simulations! Nor otherwise in any manner would I assay you, for sufficeth unto me the proof I have already made by the good fame of your predecessors and yourself, together with what I feel and see with mine eyes and know by true experience. And excuse me if the story telleth of cruelty too great (to my mind) and above reason. And wot you that it never befel so, but thus the tale runs, and I may neither correct it nor make another,

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for a wiser than I compiled and told it. And I would that since others have seen it, you also should see and know how to talk about all things, like to the others. Thus, dear sister, as I have said before that it behoves you to be obedient to him that shall be your husband, and that by good obedience a wise woman gains her husband's love and at the end hath what she would of him; even so may I say that by default of obedience, or by arrogance if you anger him, you destroy yourself and your husband and your household. And for an ensample I set a tale which saith thus: It befel that a wedded pair had a dispute with each other, to wit the wife against the husband; for each of them said that he or she was the wiser, the nobler in lineage and the worthier, and like fools did they argue against each other, and the wife so bitterly maintained her violence against her husband, who in the beginning, perchance, had not lessoned her gently, that friends were driven to intervene to save a harmful slander. Many meetings of friends were held, many reproaches exchanged, and no remedy could be found, but the wife must needs in her pride have her rights set down clearly, point by point, and the obediences and services that the friends told her she must pay to her husband set down and written in articles on the one hand, and this and that from her husband to her on the other hand, and thus might they dwell together, if not in love, at least in peace. Thus it came about, and for some time they dwelt together, and the wife narrowly guarded her rights by her charter against her husband, who was fain, to avoid worse things, to have or to feign

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patience in the despite that he had thereby, for he had begun to amend her too late. One day they were going on a pilgrimage and it behoved them to pass by a narrow plank over a ditch. The husband went first, then turned and saw that his wife was fearful and dared not come after him; and the husband was adrad lest if she should come, the fear itself should make her fall, and kindly he returned to her and took and held her by the hand; and leading her along the plank, held her and talked to her, assuring her that she should have no fear, and so went the good man backwards and talking the while. Then fell he into the water, that was deep, and he struggled hard in the water to save him from the danger of drowning, and caught and held onto an old plank that had fallen therein long time part, and was floating there, and he cried to his wife that with the help of her staff that she bore, she should draw the plank to the bank of the stream and save him. But she answered thus: "Nay, nay" quoth she, "I will look first in my charter whether it be written therein that I must do so, and if it be therein, I will do it, and otherwise not". She looked therein, and because that her charter made no mention thereof, she answered that she would do naught and left him and went her way. Long time was the husband in the water until he was at point of death. The lord of the land and his people passed by the place and saw him and rescued him when he was nigh dead. They caused him to be warmed and eased, and when that speech returned to him, they asked him what had befallen and he told them. Then the lord caused the wife to be followed and taken and had her burnt.

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Now see you to what an end pride brought her, that in her great disobedience was fain so straitly to keep her rights against her husband. And, by God, it is not always the season to say to one's ruler: "I will do naught, it is not reasonable"; greater good cometh by obeying, wherefore I take my ensample from the words of the Blessed Virgin Mary, when the Angel Gabriel brought her tidings that Our Lord should be conceived in her. She did not answer: "It is not reasonable, I am maid and virgin, I will not suffer it, I shall be defamed"; but obediently she answered: Fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum, as who should say: Be it unto me according to thy word. Thus was she truly humble and obedient, and of her humility and obedience great good hath come to us, and by disobedience and pride cometh great ill and a foul end, as is aforesaid concerning her that was burnt and as ye may read in the Bible of Eve, by whose disobedience and pride she and all women that were and shall be after her, were and have been accursed by the word of God. For, as the Historian saith, because Eve sinned doubly she had two curses. First, when she uprose in her pride and would have been like unto God: wherefore was she cast down and humbled in the first curse, wherein God spake thus: Multiplicabo aerumnas tuas et sub potestate viri eris, et ipse dominabitur tibi. To wit: I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thou shalt be in the power of man and he shall rule over thee. The History saith that before she sinned, she was somewhat in subjection to man, for that she had been made of man his rib, but that subjection was full gentle and mild, and born of

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right obedience and true will, but after this curse she was subject in all things of necessity, whether she would or no, and all other women that sprang and shall spring from her, have had and shall have to suffer and obey all that their husbands would, and shall be forced to do their commandments. The second curse was this: Multiplicabo conceptus tuos; in dolore paries filios tuos. God said: I will multiply thy conception and in sorrow shalt thou bring forth children. The History saith that the curse was not for the child, but concerning the pain that women have in bringing forth children. See ye likewise the curse that our Lord set upon the disobedience of Lucifer. For once Lucifer was the most solemn angel and the most beloved and the nearest to God that was then in Paradise, and therefore he was hight Lucifer, which is as 'twere lucem ferens, to wit bearing light, for in the eyes of the others all light and joy was there where he came, for that he represented and brought remembrance of that sovereign Lord, who so loved him and from whom he came and to whom he was so near. And as soon as this same Lucifer set aside humility, and puffed up his heart with pride, Our Lord set him further away from Him, for He caused him to fall lower than all others, to wit to the lowermost depths of hell, where he is the lowest, the worst and the most wicked of the evil ones. And likewise wot you that you shall be so close to your husband that wheresoever he goeth he will carry the memory and remembrance of you. And you may see it in all wedded folk, for no sooner do we see the husband than we ask him: "How doth your wife?"

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and likewise when we see the wife: "How doth your husband?" So close is wife to husband. Thus see you, as well by the judgments of God Himself as by the ensamples above written, that if you be not obedient in all things great and small to your husband that shall be, you shall be more to be blamed and punished by your said husband than any other that shall disobey him, inasmuch as you be nearer to him. If you be less obedient, and your chambermaid, by good disposition or by service or otherwise, showeth him such obedience that he leaveth you and committeth unto her those duties which he should commit to you, and committeth naught to you, but leaveth you aside, what will your friends say? And what will your heart feel when it perceiveth this? And when he shall have transferred his pleasure there, how shall you withdraw it afterwards? Certes, it will be in no wise in your power. And, for God's sake, have a care lest this ill hap come, that once only he take other service than yours. And so let his commandments, even the small ones that on the surface seem to you worthless or strange, be near to your heart, that you care naught for your own pleasures but only for his, and watch you that by your hand and by yourself and in your own person his pleasure be accomplished; and as for him and for those of his affairs that concern you, let none come near or set hand thereto but yourself, and let your own affairs be committed and laid by you upon your children and your privy servants that be under you, and if they do them not, do you punish them. And for that I have told you to be obedient to your

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husband that shall be, to wit more than to any other and above all living creatures beside, this word obedience shall be explained and made clear to you; to wit in all matters, in all terms, in all places and in all seasons, you shall do and accomplish without argument all his commandments whatsoever. For know that since he is a reasonable man and of good natural sense, he will command nothing without due cause and will let you do naught that is unreasonable. Nathless some women there be that are fain to glose and pick over the reasons and sense of their husbands, and again, to be thought wise and masterful, they do it more before folk than otherwise, which is worst of all. For although I am not minded to say that they ought not to know everything and that their husbands ought not to tell them everything, nathless it must be said and done apart, and ought to come of the will and courtesy of the husband and not of the authority, mastery and lordship of the wife, that questioneth him and domineereth before folk. For before folk, that she may show her obedience and keep her honour, she should say no word thereof, lest it should seem to the folk listening that the husband was wont to render account concerning his desires to his wife, and the wife ought not to wish this to be perceived, for in such case they show themselves mistresses and rulers and do great blame to themselves and great villainy to their husbands. Again others there be whose husbands bid them to do things that seem to them small and of small value, and they regard not the thwarting of him from whom the order cometh, nor the obedience that they owe to

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him, but only the value of the thing, the which value they judge after their own ideas and in no wise sometimes after the truth, for they know it not, since it hath not been told them. An ensample that may serve: A man hight Robert, that oweth me two hundred francs, cometh to bid me farewell and saith that he wendeth over the sea and saith thus to me: "Sire", saith he, "I owe you two hundred francs, the which I have delivered unto my wife who knoweth you not, but I have told her to deliver them to him that shall bring her name written in my hand and here it is". So much from him, and when he is gone from me, without telling the circumstance, I bid my wife in whom I set my trust to keep it, and my aforesaid wife causeth another to read it, and when she perceiveth that it is a woman's name, she thinketh ill and casteth it on the fire, and cometh to me in wrath, saying that she scorns to be my bawd. There is fine obedience! Item, I deliver her a straw, or an old nail or a pebble that have been delivered unto me for a witness in some great affairs, or a thread or a twig of wood for remembrance of some important business, whereof, by forgetfulness or other hazard, I say naught unto my wife, but give her the things to keep in safety; she regardeth only the value of the thread or the twig and taketh no other account of my orders, in despite because I did her not the honour and reverence of telling her the business at length. And such women be commonly rebellious, arrogant and sly, and when they have spoilt all in order to prove their mastery, they think in excusing themselves to make their husbands believe that they thought it a thing of naught, and therefore

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have not done as they were commanded, but if their husbands be wise they see well that it is through disdain and despite, because they have not done their wives the honour of telling them the matter at once and without delay, and perchance they hold the commandment for naught in their pride, nor care they at all for their husbands' displeasure, provided only that they have occasion to excuse themselves and say: "It was naught, but had it been important, I should have done it". And for this, think they, they shall be excused, but they think wrong, for howbeit the husband saith nought at the time, nathless they lose ever the name of virtuous obedience, and the stain of the disobedience remaineth long time afterward so deep in the husband's heart, that he will remember it at another time, when the wife thinketh that there is peace and that the husband hath forgotten it. So let woman avoid this perilous danger and have a care of what the apostle saith Ad Hebreos XIII: Obedite, etc.

Now this article saith again that the wife ought to obey her husband and do all his commandments whatsoever, great and small and even very small; nor behoveth it that your husband tell you the cause of his commandment, nor what moveth him, for that would seem a sign of your willing to do or not to do it according as the cause appeared good to you or otherwise, the which ought not to fall upon you nor upon your judgment, for it behoveth him alone to know it, and it behoveth not you to ask him, save it be afterwards, by your two selves alone and in private. For in doing his commandment you ought to show in no wise withdrawal, refusal, slowness or delay, and that which he

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forbiddeth ought you in no wise to do, or correct, or increase, or diminish, or loosen, or take away from, in anyway; for in all things and everywhere, be it good or ill that you have done, you are quit and free when you say: "My husband ordered me to do it". Furthermore, if ill come of your deed, then it is said of a wedded woman: "She did well, for her husband bade her, and in so doing she did her duty". And thus if worse befal, you shall not merely be excused but praised. And concerning this, I will tell you a very piteous and marvellous thing, whereof I have great ruth. I know a woman of a very great family among citizens, who is married to a good person and they be two good creatures, peaceful young people, that have fair little children. The wife is blamed for that she received a great lord into her company, but, by God, when it is spoken of, other men and women who know the story, and even those who hate that sin, say that the wife ought no wise to be blamed, for her husband commanded her. The truth is that they dwell in one of the greatest cities of this realm. Her husband and several other burgesses were imprisoned by the king by reason of a rebellion that the commons had made. Each day the heads of three or four of them were cut off. She and the other wives of these prisoners were every day before the lords, weeping and kneeling and beseeching them with clasped hands to have pity and mercy and hear them and set their husbands free. One of the lords that was about the king, fearing not God nor his justice, but even as a cruel and felon tyrant, sent word to this same citizeness, that if she

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would yield her to his will, he would without fail deliver her husband. She answered nothing to this, but besought the messenger for the love of God to bring those that kept her husband in prison to allow her to see and speak to him. And so it befel, for she was brought to her husband in prison, and all weeping told him what she saw or could perceive concerning the others, and also the prospect of his deliverance, and the foul request that had been made of her. Her husband bade her that howsoever it was she should bring about his escape from death, and that she should spare neither her body, nor her honour, nor aught else, to save and rescue his life. Then parted they from each other, both weeping. Many of the other citizen prisoners were beheaded, her husband was set free. And she is excused in a thing so great, for that even supposing it were true, there is neither fault nor sin in her, nor hath she committed crime nor ill, for her husband bade her and she did it to save her husband, wisely and like a good woman. Nathless now leave I the matter, which is ill to tell and too outrageous (cursed be the tyrant that did it!) and return to my theme that one should obey one's husband, and I will leave the great matters and come to little things of desport. In God's name, I believe that when two good honest folk be wed, all other loves be put afar off, destroyed and forgotten, save the love of each other; meseems that when they are in each other's presence they look upon each other more than upon others, they press each other, they hold each other, and they do not willingly speak or make sign save to each other. And when they be parted they think of each other, and say in their

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hearts: When I see him, I shall do thus, I shall say this to him, I shall beseech him concerning this or that. And all their special pleasures, their chief desires and their perfect joys be to do pleasure and obedience unto each other, and if they love each other, they care naught for obedience and reverence beyond the common, which is too small for many. And in this matter of games and desport between husbands and wives, by God, I have heard tell by the bailly of Tournai that he hath been in divers companies and dinners with men that were long time wedded, and with them hath made divers parties and wagers to pay for the dinner, on condition that all the parties to the wager went thence to the house of each of the married men, one after another, and he among them that should have a wife so obedient that he could, without warning and without fail, make her count up to four without stay, or contradiction, or mockery, or reply, should be free of the scot, and those whose wives should be rebellious and answer and mock or deny, they should pay the scot, or each a share thereof. And when it was thus accorded, they went forth in true merriment and sport to Robin's house, who called his wife Marie, that was a vain woman, and said to her before all the husbands: "Marie, say after me what I am about to say". "Willingly, sire." "Marie, say one." "One." "And two." "And two." "And three." . . Then quoth Marie a little proudly: "And seven, and twelve and fourteen! Come, do you mock me?" So Marie's husband lost. After this, they went to Jehan's house and he called to his wife Agnes, who well knew how to play the lady, and

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said to her: "Say after me what I am about to say—one". Then disdainfully quoth Agnes, "And two". So he lost. Tassin said to dame Tassine, "One". Tassine out of pride quoth aloud: "Here's something new!" or quoth she, "I am not a child to learn how to count", or she said, "Come now, in God's name, are you become a tradesman?" and the like. And so he lost; and all those that had wedded young and well bred and well taught women won and were right glad. Look you even what God, Who is wise above all wisdom, did because that Adam, disobeying and despising God's commandment and prohibition, ate the apple (and, sure, an apple was a small thing enough) and how wrath He was; He was not wrath for the apple, but for the disobedience and the small account that Adam made of Him. See how He loved the Virgin Mary for her obedience. Look you at the obedience and the deeds of Abraham, who at a mere command did such great and dreadful things without asking why. Look you at Griselda, what things she bore and endured in her heart without demanding the reason thereof, though there seemed no cause nor colour of a cause, no profit to come and no need therefor, save only that dread and terrible will, and how she asked naught nor said one word, wherefore she won such praise that now, five hundred years after her death, we still read of her goodness. And the doctrine that women must be obedient to their husbands beginneth not now. It is written in Genesis in the xxixth chapter that Lot and his wife set forth from a city and Lot forbade his wife to look behind her. For a while she obeyed and afterwards

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she despised his commandment and looked. Forthwith God changed her into a pillar of salt and thus is she still and shall she be. It is the very word of the Bible and we must believe it, else we be not good Christians. For see you, God thus assayed his friends and servants in full small things, as the one for an apple, the other for looking backward, and so it is no marvel that husbands, who of their bounty have set all their heart and all their joy and delight in their wives and have put all other loves behind them, should take pleasure in their obedience, and in loving jests and other ways not harmful should assay them.

Wherefore, returning to what is above said concerning how the husbands assayed the obedience of their wives, though it were but in jest, nathless the hearts of those that were disobeyed and thereupon lost, were wounded by the mockery and the loss, and however much they feigned not to be, they were all shamefast and less well loved they their wives, who were not humble and fearful and obedient to them, as they should have been even in so small a thing, unless there had been great reason against it, which they should have told their husbands secretly and apart. And sometimes young and foolish husbands be so wicked that without reason, because of small and trivial matters, the beginnings whereof be arisen out of jests and nothings, and because of continual disobedience by their worthy wives, they amass and heap up a secret and covert wrath in their hearts, whereby worse cometh to both of them. And sometimes they bestow their embraces upon evil and dishonest women who obey them in all things and honour them more than they be honoured of their

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worthy wives; then those husbands cleave unto those evil women, who know how to keep their peace and honour and obey them in all things and do their pleasure. For doubt not, there is no husband so bad that he would not be obeyed and pleased by his wife, and when husbands find themselves better obeyed elsewhere than they were wont to be aforetime in their homes, then foolishly and neglectfully leave they their wives, that be haughty and disobedient, the which wives be afterwards wroth, when they see that in all gatherings they be not held in such honour as those that be accompanied by their husbands, or their own like fools are held so firmly by their hearts that they may not be drawn away. And it is not so easy to catch a bird that hath escaped from its cage as to keep it well, so that it fly not away; so these women cannot bring back their husband's hearts, when those husbands have sought and found better obedience elsewhere, and they lay upon their husbands the blame which truly is upon themselves.

Dear sister, see you that that which is said concerning men and women, may likewise be said concerning wild beasts, and not wild beasts alone, but beasts which be wont to ravish and devour, as bears, wolves and lions for these same beasts be fed and attracted by doing them pleasure, and afterwards they come and follow those that care for them and go with them and love them; and the bears be made to ride, the monkeys and other beasts to leap and dance and tumble and do all that their master wishes; and so for this reason may I show you how your husband will cherish, love and protect you if you think to do his pleasure. Wherefore concerning what I have spoken (and I have spoken truth)

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about wild beasts is that be fed, etc., I say also the contrary, and you shall find that not only your husband, but your father and mother and your sisters shall grow strange to you if you be fierce to them and be not debonnair and obedient.

Now wot you well that your principal dwelling, your principal labour and love and your principal company is that of your husband, for whose love and company you be rich and honoured, and if he flee, or depart, or be afar from you by reason of your disobedience, or any other cause whatsoever, rightly or wrongly, you will remain alone and disparaged, and the blame thereof will be laid upon you and you will be held in the less honour, and if but once he have this evil of you, 'twill be hard for you ever to appease him, so that the slain of the misdeed dwell not so portrayed and written upon his heart, that howbeit he showeth and saith nought, 'twill not be wiped out and effaced for a long while. And if there cometh a second disobedience, beware of the vengeance spoken of in this same chapter and article at And worse still, etc. Wherefore I beseech you love, serve and obey your husbands, even in very small and jesting matters, for sometimes very little things, full small and in jest, which seem of little worth because disobedience thereto doth little harm, be done for a trial, and by these it is known whether obedience or disobedience shall be looked for in great things; in sooth say I that you should straightway obey, even in full strange and wild things that your husband layeth upon you in jest or in earnest.

This matter I illustrate by a tale which saith thus: p. 153

Three abbots and three married men were met together and one of them posed a question, asking which were the better obedient, wives to their husbands or monks to their abbot; whereupon they had much talk and argument and ensamples told on both sides. Whether the ensamples were true, I know not; but in the end they were still disagreed, and it was ordained that a proof should be made, loyally and secretly sworn between them by faith and oath, to wit that each of the abbots should order each of his monks that without the knowledge of the others he should leave his room open and a rod beneath his pillow, and await the discipline that his abbot was in mind to give him; and that each of the husbands should secretly order his wife, when they were abed and without letting any of their household or any save their two selves know aught about it, to set and leave a broom behind the door of their room all night long. And within a week the abbots and the husbands were to meet together again, and they swore to carry out their trial before then and faithfully and loyally, without any fraud, to report what had befallen; and whichever had been least well obeyed, the abbots or the husbands, should pay a scot of ten francs. Thus it was accorded and done. The report of each of the abbots was that, upon their souls, they had given the order to each of their monks, and at midnight each had visited every room and had found the order obeyed. Then the husbands told their tales, one after the other. The first said that before going to bed, he secretly gave the order to his wife, who full oft asked him what was the good thereof and what it was for, but he would not tell her.

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Then she refused to obey and he then feigned him to be wrath, whereupon she promised him that she would do it. At eve they went to bed and dismissed their folk, who carried away the lights. Then he made his wife rise and heard well that she set up the broom. He was full pleased with her, and slept for a little and soon afterwards awoke and was aware that his wife slept; then rose he softly and went to the door and found not the broom, and crept secretly to bed again and woke up his wife and asked her if the broom were behind the door, and she answered "Yea". He replied that it was not there and that he had looked. Then quoth she: "By God, if I were to lose the best dress I have, I would not leave it there, for when you were asleep, my hair began to stand up on my head, and I began to shiver and I could not have slept while that 'twas in the room; so I flung it through the window into the road". The second husband said that after they were abed he had made his wife rise, and full of displeasure and wrath, she had set the broom behind the door, but she had straightway clad herself again and gone from the room, saying that she would not sleep in the room where it was, and that in truth the devils of hell might come; and she went all clad to sleep with her chambermaid. The third said that his wife had answered that she was not born or sprung from wizards and sorcerers, and that she knew not how to play at midnight conjuring, nor at broomsticks, and if she were to die she would not do it or consent to it, nor ever would she stay in the house if it were done.

Thus the monks were obedient in a greater thing to their abbots, which is a marvel; but it is natural, p. 155

for they be men; and the wedded women were less obedient in a less thing and to their own husbands, that should have been their special care, for 'twas their nature, since they were women; and thus the husbands lost ten francs by them and were disappointed in their outrageous boasts, for they had boasted of their wives' obedience. But I beseech you, fair sister, be not as these were, but be more obedient to your husband that shall be, both in small things and in strange ones, whether in earnest, in game, in jest or otherwise; for all are good.

By God, a full strange thing saw I at Melun, one day where the sire d'Andresel was captain of the town; for the English were lodged in several places round about and the men of Navarre were lodged within the castle. And one day after dinner the said sire d'Andresel was at the gate, and he was bored and complaining that he knew not where to go and desport him to pass the day. A squire said to him: "Sire, will you go and see a damsel dwelling in this town that doth all that her husband commands?" The sire d'Andresel answered him, "Yea, let us go". Then they set forth and on the way a squire was pointed out to the sire d'Andresel as the damsel's husband. The sire d'Andresel called him and asked him whether his wife would do as he ordered. And the aforesaid squire replied, "By God, sir, yes, however great villainy it be". And the sire d'Andresel said to him: "I will wager you a dinner that I will counsel you to make her do something wherein there shall be nought of villainy and she shall not do it". The squire replied: "Certes, sir, she will do it and I shall win; and I could

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win a wager with you more honourably in several other ways and have thereby greater honour in losing and paying for the dinner; so I beseech you, do you wager that she will do it, and I will wager that she will not". The sire d'Andresel said, "I order you to wager even as I have said". Then the squire obeyed and accepted the wager. The sire d'Andresel wished to be present together with all that were there and the squire said that he was full willing. Then the sire d'Andresel, who was holding a stick, said: "My will is that as soon as we be arrived and without saying anything else, you bid your wife in our presence to leap over this slack in front of us all, and that it be done without frown, or grimace, or any other sign". Thus it was done and they all entered the squire's house together and straightway the damsel came to meet them. The squire set the stick on the ground and held it there saying: "Madam, jump over this". Forthwith she jumped. "Jump again" quoth he. She jumped again. "Jump!" She jumped thrice, without saying a single word save "Willingly". The sire d'Andresel was astounded and said that he had lost and would pay the dinner next day in his house. And straightway they all set out to go thither and when he entered the door of his house, the lady d'Andresel came to meet him and saluted him. And straightway when the sire d'Andresel had dismounted, still holding the stick over which the damsel had leapt at Melun, he set the stick to the ground and thought to make the lady d'Andresel jump over it, the which she refused to do; wherefore the sire d'Andresel was full sore enangered. And for the rest I will be silent and with reason; but this

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much I may well say, and well do I know it, that had she accomplished her lord's command, that made it rather for a joke and a trial than for profit, she would the better have upheld his honour and have been the better prized by him for it; but to some women good cometh not, and to others so doth it.

And again on this subject I can tell another full strange thing, how that once on a summer's day, I was riding from Chaumont in Bassigny to Paris and one eve at vespers I stopped to lodge in the town of Bar-sur-Aube. Several young men of the town that were wedded there and had some acquaintance with me, came to pray me to sup with them, as they said, and they said that they were in this case: there were several young men, but lately wedded and to young wives, that had been met together, without other wise folk with them, and they had asked concerning each other's estate and had found by each man's speech, that each of them thought that his own wife was the best and most obedient in all manner of obedience, be it to do or not to do, in great things or small. Wherefore they had plotted together, as they said, to go all together to the house of each one of them and there the lord was to ask his wife for a needle, or a pin, or a pair of scissors, or the key of their coffer, or something of the sort; and if the wife said "What for?" or "What are you going to do with it?" or "Are you in earnest?" or "Do you mock me?" or "I have none", or if she made any other reply or delay, the husband should pay a franc for the supper; and if without argument or delay she forthwith delivered her husband that for which he asked, the husband should be held

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happy in possessing so wise and obedient a wife, and wise in maintaining and keeping her in the same obedience, and he should be seated at the head of the table and should pay nought.

And albeit there be some women that cannot and deign not to submit to such small and strange things, but disdain and despise them, and all that thus behave, nathless, fair sister, you may wot well that it is needful for human nature to take pleasure in something; even the poor, the impotent, the sick or languid and those that be upon their deathbed take and seek pleasure and joy, and for more reason still those that be in health. All the delight of some is in hunting or hawking, of others in playing upon instruments, of others in swimming, or dancing, or singing, or jousting; even you seek your own diversely in divers ways; so, if your husband imagine that he would fain take pleasure in your service or obedience, as above, serve him and bear with him, and know that God will give you this great grace that your husband will take greater pleasure in you than in any other thing; for if you be the key to his pleasure, he will serve you and follow you and love you therefore, and if he has pleasure in something else he will follow it and you will be set aside. So I counsel and admonish you to do his pleasure in full small things and full strange ones and in all, and if thus you do, his children and you yourself shall be his minstrels and his joys and pleasures, and he will not seek his joys elsewhere, and it shall be a great good and a great peace and honour for you.

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therefore spake not to you, nor bade or forbade you concerning it, nathless you should do according to his pleasure, whatsoever pleasure you might have to do otherwise, and you should set aside your pleasure and put it behind you, and ever set his pleasure first. But if the business be important and such that you may have time to make it known unto him, write to him that you believe it would be his will to do thus, etc., and therefore you wish to do his pleasure, but because that such and such an inconvenience may come of doing it, and such and such a loss and damage likewise, it seemeth to you better and more honourable to do thus and thus, etc., the which thing you dare not do without his leave, may it please him to send you his wishes thereupon and you will carry out his orders with a ready heart and with all your power, etc.

All women do not so, wherefore evil cometh to them in the end, and when they be less valued and see the good and obedient wives that be well honoured, companioned and loved by their husbands, these wicked ones that be not so are at war with fate and say that fate hath o'erridden them thus, and the wickedness of their husbands that in no wise set their trust in them; but they lie, fate hath not done it; their own disobedience and disrespect towards their husbands hath done it, for after these husbands have often times failed towards their wives, that have disobeyed them and shown them no respect, they dare no longer trust in them and so they have sought and found obedience, wherein they set their trust, elsewhere. And I remember, by God, that I saw one of your

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cousins, that loveth well you and me, and so doth her husband, and she came to me, saying "Cousin" quoth she, "We have such and such an affair to do, and meseems it would be well done thus and thus, and 'twould please me so. What think you?" And I said to her: "The first thing is to know your husband's advice and pleasure; have you not spoken to him? "And she answered me:" By God, cousin, nay; for by divers ways and strange words I felt that he was in mind to do so and so, and not as I have said. And you know, cousin, that it is less blame to do a thing without one's lord's leave than after he hath forbidden it, and sure am I that he will forbid me and I know well that he, loves you and holds you for a good man, and if I did as I say by your advice, whatsoever came thereof, if I excused myself by your advice, he would be easily appeased, so much doth he love you". And I said to her: "Since he loves me, I must love him and do his pleasure, wherefore I counsel you to act according to his pleasure and set your own aside". And naught else might she have of me and she departed full wroth for that I did not help her to do her will, that was all against the will of her husband; and she cared not for her husband's wrath, for she would have been able to say, "You bade me not otherwise to do, etc., your cousin counselled me to do this". Now see you her mind, and how anxious the woman is to do great pleasure to her husband and what obedience she giveth him!

Dear sister, other women there be that when they desire to do a thing in one way, but such a one suspecteth that her husband would not have it thus,

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she resisteth not nor resteth, but fretteth and fumeth, and when she perceiveth that she and her husband be alone and talking of their business, affairs and pleasures, the woman by certain words that be close to a certain matter, subtly enquireth and feeleth, concerning this business, that her husband is in mind to do and follow another way than she wisheth; then doth the woman lead her husband to speak of other things, that he may not say openly concerning this one: "In this matter do thus"; and quietly she passeth it over and setteth her husband upon other talk and they end upon a business far from that matter. And as soon as this woman knoweth her position, then causeth she the first matter to be done according to her pleasure, nor careth she for her husband's pleasure, which she setteth at nought and thinketh to excuse herself by saying: "You said naught to me about it", for she careth not for the wrath and displeasure of her husband, but only that her own be assuaged and her will done. And meseems that it is ill done thus to trick and deceive and try one's husband; but many there be that make such trials and many others, which is ill done, for a woman ought ever to seek to do her husband's pleasure when it is wise and reasonable; and when she tries her husband, covertly and quietly, under strange and malicious concealments, if it be the better to manage him, that is ill done, for with one's husband ought one never to act by guile or malice, but openly and roundly, heart to heart. And worse still is it when the woman hath a husband that is an honest man and debonnair, and she leaveth him, in the hope of having pardon and excuse for ill-doing,

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as it is written in the book of the Seven Sages of Rome that there was in the city a wise widower, of great age and full rich in lands and of good renown, that had been wedded to two wives that were dead. His friends counselled him to take another wife and he answered that they should find him one and that he would gladly wed her. They found him one that was fair and young and ready of her body, for never shall you see man so old that he doth not willingly take a young wife. He married her and the lady was with him for a year without his once doing that which you wot of. Now this lady had a mother; one day she was at church with her mother, and whispered unto her that she had no solace of her lord and therefore she was in mind to love. "Daughter" said the mother, "If thou do so, he will hold thee in great despite, for certes there is no revenge so great as that of an old man, wherefore believe me and do it not, for never wilt thou be able to appease thy husband." The daughter replied that she would do it. Then quoth the mother, "Since otherwise it may not be, I would thou shouldst make trial of thy husband first". "Willingly", replied the daughter, "I will make trial of him thus. He hath a fruit tree grafted in his garden, which is full fair and which he loveth more than all his other trees. I will cut it down, and so shall I see if I may appease him easily." Thus they were accorded and forthwith left the church. The young dame returned to her house and found that her lord was gone to desport him in the fields. Then took she an axe, and began to strike to right and to left, until she felled the tree, and had it cut up by a varlet,

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and carried to the fire. And at the moment that this man was bringing it, the lord entered his house and saw him bringing the logs of the fruit tree in his hand; and the lord asked, "Whence cometh this firewood?" The lady answered: "I came of late from the church and they told me that you were gone into the fields, and I feared, for that it had rained, lest you should return wet and take cold, wherefore went I into the orchard and cut down this fruit tree, for there was no firewood in the house". "Lady" said the lord, "It is my good fruit tree!" "Certes, sire," quoth the lady, "I know not." The lord went forth into his orchard and he was full wroth, albeit he showed no sign thereof, but returned and found the lady making the fire with the fruit tree, as though she did it in good will to warm him. When the lord was come, he spake thus to her: "Now, dame, it is my good fruit tree that you have cut down!" "Sire", quoth the lady, "I marked it not, for certes I did it because I knew well that you would come in all wet and damp with the rain, and I feared lest you should be cold and take harm thereby." "Dame" said the lord, "I will let it be, since you say that you did it for my sake."

The next day the lady returned to the church and found her mother and said to her: "I made trial of my lord and cut down the fruit tree, but he showed me no sign that he was very wroth, and therefore, wot you, mother, that I shall love". "Do it not, fair daughter" quoth the mother, "Let it be." "Certes", quoth the daughter, "I will do it: no longer can I restrain myself." "Fair daughter" saith the mother, "If it be even as thou sayest and thou canst not

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restrain thyself, then make trial once again of thy husband." Quoth the daughter, "Willingly, I will make trial of him again thus. He hath a greyhound that he loveth marvellously well; he would take no money for it, so good it is, and he will suffer none of his varlets to drive it from the fire and none to give it to eat save himself only. I will slay it before him".

Then they parted. The daughter returned to her house; it was late and cold, the fire was fair and bright and the beds were well arrayed and covered with fair counterpanes and rugs, and the lady was clad in a new pelisse. The lord came from the fields. The lady rose to meet him; she took off his cloak and then would have unbuckled his spurs, but the lord would not suffer her and bade one of his varlets take them off. Much show did the lady make of serving him; she ran and brought in a new lined mantle and set it on his shoulders and arranged an armchair and set a cushion thereon, and made him sit by the fire, and bespake him thus: "Sire, certainly you are all pale with cold, warm yourself and be well at your ease". When she had spoken thus, she sat down close to him and lower than he, upon a footstool, and spread out the skirt of her pelisse, looking ever upon her husband. When the greyhound saw the fine fire, it came by mischance and lay down upon the edge of the lady's dress, and the lady saw close to her a varlet with a big knife, and snatched it and ran it through the body of the aforesaid greyhound, which began then to beat with its paws and died in front of the husband. "Dame", quoth he "How are you so bold as to slay in mine own presence my leveret that I loved so well?" "Sire" said the

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lady, "See you not every day how we be troubled? There are no two days that we have not to clean up here after your dogs. And now look at my pelisse that I had never worn before, see how it is spoilt! Did you think that I should not be wroth?" The wise old man answered: "By God, it is ill done, and I take it full ill of you, but now I will speak of it no more". The lady said: "Sire, you may do your will with me, for I am yours, and wot well that I am sorry for what I have done, for I know well that you loved it dearly; I am in grief for that I have angered you". When she had spoken thus she made great show of weeping. When the lord saw this, he let it pass.

The next day she went to the church and found her mother and told her all that had befallen and how in good sooth, since all had befallen so well and she had so well escaped, she would fain love. "Ha, fair daughter", quoth the mother, "Do not so, thou mayst well forbear!" "Certes, lady, I will not." Then said the mother: "Fair daughter, all my life I bore me well unto thy father, and never did such folly nor desired to". "Ha, lady" replied the daughter, "'Tis not with me as with you, for you and my father came together as young folk, and you had your pleasures together, but I have no pleasure nor solace of mine; so behoveth me to procure it." "Now, fair daughter, if love you must, whom wilt thou love?" "Mother" quoth the daughter, "I will love the chaplain of this town, for priests and monks feared to be shamed and are more secret. Never would I love a knight, for they would soon boast and brag about me and ask of me my

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jewels to pledge them." "Now, fair daughter, do once more as I counsel, and again make trial of thy lord." Quoth the daughter, "Try so much and so much and again and again, there will be no end of this!" "By my head" said the mother, "thou shalt try him once more, by my advice, for never shalt thou see vengeance so foul nor so cruel as an old man's vengeance." "Well, lady" said the daughter, "I will willingly do your behest yet once again and I will try him thus: Thursday will be Christmas Day and my lord will hold a great feast for his kinsmen and other friends, for all the vavasours of this town will be there and I shall be seated at the head of the table in a chair; and as soon as the first course is served, I shall entangle my keys in the fringe of the cloth, and when this is done, I shall rise of a sudden and drag everything after me, and I shall scatter and spill all that is on the table; and then I will calm all once more. Thus shall I have tried my lord thrice by three great trials and lightly appeased him again, and by this you shall wot well that thus lightly I shall appease him concerning more dark and hidden things, that he can speak of only in suspicion." "Well, fair daughter", said the mother, "God grant thou do well."

Then they parted; each went to her house. The daughter cared for her husband cordially, in all semblance, and full eagerly and well and full fairly, until Christmas Day came. The vavasours of Rome and the damsels thereof were come, the tables were arrayed and the cloths laid, and all sat down; and the lady played the mistress and housewife, and sat at the head of the table in a chair, and the servants brought

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in the first meats and brewets and set them on the table. And when the trencher men had begun to carve, the lady entangled her keys in the fringes at the edge of the tablecloth, and when she perceived that they were well entangled, she rose suddenly and took a long step backward, as though she had staggered as she rose; and she dragged at the cloth, and bowls full of brewet, hanaps full of wine and sauces were spilt and all that was on the table was upset. When the lord saw this he was shamed and full wroth and bethought him of the things that had happened before. At once the lady drew out her keys that were entangled in the cloth. "Dame", said the lord, "You have done ill!" "Sire" quoth the lady, "I could not help it. I was going to seek your carving knives that were not on the table and I was troubled." "Dame" said the lord, "Now fetch us other cloths!" The lady bade fetch other cloths, and other dishes were brought in again. They ate merrily and the lord showed no sign of wrath nor anger, and when they had eaten enough and the lord had shown them great honour, they departed thence.

The lord suffered the night to pass until the next day was come. Then quoth he: "Dame, you have thrice displeased me and made me full wroth, and you shall not do it a third time, if I can help it; and I know well that it is bad blood that hath made you so to do; it behoveth to bleed you". He sent for the barber and had the fire made ready. The lady said to him: "Sire, what would you do? Never have I been bled". "So much the worse" quoth the lord, "it behoveth you now to begin; these three evil tricks that you have

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played upon me, you have played by reason of bad blood." Then he bade her right arm to be warmed at the fire and when it was warmed, he bade bleed her; and she was bled until the thick red blood came forth. Then the lord bade staunch her, and then bade her draw her other arm from out her dress. The lady began to cry mercy. Nought availed it, for he had the second arm warmed and bled, and they took so much that she swooned and lost all speech and became in hue as one dead, and when the lord saw this, he caused her to be staunched and carried to her bed in her room. When she came out of her swoon then began she to cry and weep and sent for her mother, who came forthwith; and when she came into her presence, all went from the room and left these two alone together. When the lady saw her mother she said to her: "Ha! mother, I am dead; my lord hath bled me so hard that I trow well that never shall I enjoy my body". "Now, daughter, well I wilt that bad blood was consuming thee; now tell me, my child, dost thou still desire to love?" "Certes, lady, nay." "Daughter did I not in troth tell thee that never shouldst thou see vengeance so cruel as that of an old man?" "Lady, yea; but, for the love of God, help me to recover and be restored to health, and by my soul, mother, never will I love." "Fair daughter" quoth the mother, "thou wilt do wisely. Thy lord is a good worthy man and wise, love him and serve him, and wot that naught but good and honour shall come thereby." "Certes, mother, well know I now that you gave me and give good counsel, and I will henceforth believe it and

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honour my husband and never try him nor anger him." Dear sister, this will suffice concerning this matter. For in this matter of obedience we have heretofore spoken and what is to be done if the husband order small things in jest, in earnest, or otherwise, and then of what is to be done when the husband has bidden or forbidden naught, because he has not bethought him thereof, and thirdly of the long way that women will go to accomplish their own will beyond and above the will of their husbands. And now at the last let us say that they should not do what their husbands forbid, in small things or great, for so to do is to act ill. And begin with small matters, in which obedience should just as well be shown; I prove it even by the judgments of God, for you know, dear sister, how that by the disobedience of Adam, who against the command of God ate an apple the which is a small thing, all the world was cast into servitude. . . .

But some women there be, that think too slyly to escape, for when their husband hath forbidden them to do something that it liketh them to do and they be full fain to do, they delay and wait and let time go by until that the husband forget that he hath forbidden it, or until he be gone away, or until he be so busy with other and weighty matters that he remembereth not. And thereupon, straightway, at once and hastily, the woman doth the thing according to her pleasure and against the will and command of her lord, or causeth it to be done by her people, saying: "Do it boldly! My lord will not notice it, he will know naught about it". Now see you that this woman, in her headstrong

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will, is in truth a rebel and disobedient, and her malice and wickedness, that naught can withstand, make her case the worse and show clearly her evil mind. And wot that there is naught that will not be made known in the end and when the husband shall see it and shall perceive that she separateth their united wills, that should be one, as is aforesaid, that husband will peradventure be silent, as was the wise man of Rome, of whom it is written before in this article; but his heart will be so deeply wounded thereby, that never will it heal, but every time that he remembereth it, new sorrow will spring thereof.

So I beseech you, dear sister, that you watch and beware very specially against making such trials and attempts upon another husband than I, if you have one, but let your mind and his be one, as you and I are at present; and that will suffice for this article.