THE FRANKLIN'S TALE
Repent, for high God's sake, ere ye slay me because I love you. For, madame, ye wot well what ye promised; not that I claim of you anything by right, my sovereign lady, but of your grace. At a certain spot in yonder garden, ye wot well what ye promised me; and ye plighted me your troth in mine hand to love me best, God wot ye said so, although I be unworthy thereof. Madame, I speak it more for your honour than to save even now my heart's life; I have done as ye commanded me; and if ye vouchsafe, ye may go and behold. Do as ye list, have in remembrance your promise, for quick, or dead, right there ye shall find me. In you it lieth wholly to let me die or live; for well I wot the rocks be away!"
He taketh his leave, and she standeth astounded; in all her face there was not a drop of blood. She weened never to have fallen into such a trap. "Alas," quoth she, "that this ever should betide! For I weened never, by any possibility, that such a prodigy or marvel might happen. It is against the process of nature." And home she goeth, a sorrowful wight. Scarce, for very fear, could she walk ; all of a day or two she weepeth, waileth and swooneth, that it was ruth to see; but to no wight told she why; for Arveragus was gone out of town. But with face pale and with full sorrowful cheer, she spake to herself, and in her complaint said as ye shall be told.
"Alas!" quoth she, "I cry out against thee, Fortune, that hast bound me unaware in thy chain, to escape which I wot of no release save only death, or else dishonour; one of these two it behooveth me to choose. Natheless I had liefer die, than suffer a shame of my body, or know myself false, or lose my good repute; and in sooth I may be quit of these by my death.
Hath there not ere this many a noble wife—hath not many a
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