Ra3 · Oxford, Bodleian Library MS. Rawlinson poet. 223
Canterbury Tales Project.
talesofcanterbury.org/GP/xml/transcripts/Ra3/
[8r]
There as this lord was keper of the selle
The rule of seint Maure or of seint Beneit
Be cause it was olde and somdel streite
This ilke Monke let olde thinges pace
And helde aftir the newe world the space
He yaf nat of the text a pulled hen
That seith that hunters beth nouȝt holy men
Ne that a Monke whan̄ he is reccheles
Is likned to a fisshe that is waterles
That is to sein a monke withouten his cloistre
But thilke nat text helde he nat worth an oistre
And I said his opinion was gode
What shuld he studie and make him self wode
Vpon̄ a book in cloistre alwey to poore
Or swinken with his hondes or laboure
As Austyn bit hou shal the worlde be serued
Lat Austyn haue his swynke to him reserued
Therfor he was a prikesour ariȝt
Greyhoundes he had as swift as foule in fliȝt
Of priking ⁊and of huntyng for the hare
Was all his lust for no cost wolde he spare
I sy his sleues I purfiled at the hond
With grys ⁊and that the fynest of a lond
And for to fastene his hood vnder his chynne
He had of gold I wrouȝt a full curious pynne
A loue knotte in the gretter ende ther was
His heed was balled that shone as any glas
And eke his face and he had ben anoynt
He was lord full fatte and in gode poynt
His eyen stepe and rollyng in his hede
That stemed as a forneys of a lede
His bootes souple his hors in gret estat
Now certainly he was a faire prelat
He nas nat pale as a forpyned goost
A fatte swan loued he best of any roost
His Palfrey was as broun as any berye
The Frere ·
A Frere ther was awantoun ⁊and a merye A lymitoᵘur a full solempne man
In alle the ordres iiij is non that can
So mekill of daliaunce and faire langage
He had made full many a mariage
To yong wommen at his owne coste
Vnto his ordre he was a noble poste
Full wel be loued and famulier was he
With frankeleynes ouer all in his contre
And with worthi wommen of the toun
For he had power of confessioıı̄un
And said him self more than a curat
And of his ordre he was licenciat
Full swetely herd he confessioıı̄un
And plesaunt was his absolucioıı̄un
He was an esy man to yeue penᵃnce
Ther as he wist to haue a gode pitaunce
For vnto a pore ordre for to yeue
Is signe that a man is wel I shryue
For if he yaf he dorst wel make avaunt
He wist that a man was repentᵃunt
For many a man so hard is of his herte
He may not wepe al thouȝ him sore smerte
Therfor in stede of weping ⁊and praiers
Men mote yeue siluer to the poore freres
His typet was ay farced full of knyues
And pynnes for to yeue faire wyues
And certeinly he had a mery note
Wel coude he syngen and pleyen on a rote
Of yeddinges he bar vtterly the prys
His necke white was as the flour delys
Therto as strong was as a champioıı̄un
He knewe wel the tauernes in euery toun
And eueri hostiller and eueri tapstere
Bet than a laȝer or a begstere
For vnto such a worthi man as he
Accordes nouȝt as by his faculte
To haue with such laȝers aqueyntaunce
It is nat honest it may not auaunce
For to delen with such poraile
But all with riche and sellers of vitaile
And ouer all there as profiȝt shuld arise
Curteys he was and louly of seruice
Ther nas no man nowher so vertuous
He was the beste begger in his hous
For thouȝ a widewe had nouȝt a shoo
So plesaunt was his In principio
Yet wolde he haue a ferthing or he went
His purchace was wel better than his rent
And rage he couthe as it were riȝt a whelp
In louedayes there coude he moche helpe .
For ther he was not like as cloisterer
With a threde bare cope as is a pore scoler
But he was like a maister or a pope
Of double worsted was his semy cope
That rounded as a belle out of the presse
Somwhat he lipsed for his wantounesse
To make his englissh swete vpon̄ his tonge
And in his harping whan that he had songe
His eyen twinkeled in his heed ariȝt
As don the sterres in the frosty niȝt
This worthi lymitoᵘur was I cleped Huberd
¶ A marchᵃunt was there with a forked berd
In motle and hiȝe vpon his hors he sat
Vpon his heed a flaundrissh beuer hat
His bootes clapsid faire and fetisly
His resons he spak full solemply
Sownyng alwey the encres of his wynnyng
He wold the see were kept for any thing
Betwix Middelbourgh and Orewelle
Wel coude he in eschaunge sheldes selle
This worthi man ful wel his wit besette
Ther wist no wiȝt that he was in dette
So estatly was he of his gouernᵃaunce
With his bargeynes and with his cheuesshaunce
Forsothe he was a worthi man with all
But soth to seyn I not hou men him call
¶ A clerk ther was of Oxenford also
That vnto logik had long I go
As lene was his hors as is a rake
And he nas riȝt fat I vndertake
But loked holwe and therto soberly
Ful thredebar was his ouerest curtepy
For he had goten him no benefice
Ne was so worldly for to haue office
For him was leuer haue at his beddes hede
Twenty bokes I clad in blak and rede
Of Aristotle and his Philosophie
Then robes riche or fithel or gay sawtrye
But al be that he was a philosophre
Yet had he but litill gold in cofre
But al that he miȝt of his frendes hente
On bokes and on lernyng he it spente
And besily gan for the soules preye
Of hem that wherwith yaf him to scoleye
Of studie toke he most cure ⁊and moost hede
Nouȝt a worde spak he more than was nede
And that was seide in forme ⁊and reuerence
And short ⁊and quyk and full of high sentence
Sownyng in a moral vertu was his speche
And gladly wold he lerne and gladly wold he teche
A sergeaunt of the lawe war and wise
That often had ben at Parys
Ther was also full riche of excellence
Discret he was and of gret reuerence
He semed such his wordes weren so wyse
Iustice he was full often in assise
By patent and by pleyn cōmmissioıı̄un
For his science and his hiȝe renoun̄
Of fees and robes had he many oon̄
So gret a purchasour was nowher non̄
All was fee sympill to him in effect
His purchasing miȝt nouȝt be infect
Nowher so besy a man ther nas
And yet he semed besier than he was
In termes had he caas and domes alle
That from the tyme of kyng william were falle
Therto he coude endite and make a thing
Ther coude no wiȝt pynche at his writing
And eueri statute coude he pleyn by rote
He rode but homely in a medle cote
Gyrt with a ceynt of silke with barres smale
Of his array telle I no lenger tale .
A Frankeleyn was ther in his company
White was his berd as is the daysie
Of his complexioıı̄un he was sangueyn
Wel loued he by the morwe a soppe in wyn
To lyuen in delite was euer his wone
For he was Epicurus owne sone
That helde opinioıı̄un that pleyn delite
Was verry felicite parfiȝt
An housholder and that a gret was he
Seynt Iulian he was in his contre
His brede his Ale was alweies after oon
A better envyned man was neuer non
Withoute bake mete was neuer his hous
Of fissh and flessh and that was so plenteuous
It snewed in his hous of mete and drynke
Of alle deyntees that men coude thinke
Aftir the sondry sesons of the yere
So chaunged he his mete and his sopere
Ful many a fat pertrich had he in mewe
And many a breem ⁊and many a luce in stewe
Woo was his Cook but if his sauce were
Poynaunt and sharp and redy all his gere
His table dormaunt in his halle alwey
Stood redy couered all the long day
At sessions there was he lord and syre
Ful ofte tyme he was kniȝt of the shire
An anlas and a gipser all of sylk
Henge at his girdill white as morne milk
A shereue had he bene and comptour
Was nowher such a worthi vauasour
An haberdassher and a carpenter
A webbe a dyer and a Tapicer
And thei were clothid all in oo lyuere
Of a solempne and gret fraternite
Full fressh and newe hire gere a piked was
Here knyues were nat chaped with bras
But all with siluer wrouȝt ful clene and wel
Here girdeles and her pouches eueri dell
Wel semed iche of hem a faire burgeys
To sitten at gildehalle on a deys
Euerich for the wisdam that he can̄
Was shapely for to ben an alderman̄
For catell hadde thei I nouȝ and rent
And eke hee wyues wold it wel assente
And elles ertein were thei to blame
It is full faire to be callid madame
And gon to vigilies al to fore
And haue a mantell rially I bore
A Coke they had with hem for the nones
To boyle the chikenes with the mary bones
And pouder marchᵃunt tart ⁊and ganyngale
Wel coude he knowe a drauȝt of londoıı̄un ale
He coude roste sethe broile and frye
Make mortreux and wel bake A Pye
Gret harme was it as it thouȝt me
That on his shyne a mormal had he
For blankmanger that made he with the beste
A shipman was ther wonyng fer by weste
For ouȝt I wot he was of Dertmouthe
He rood vpon̄ a rouncy as he couthe
In a gowne of falding to the knee
A dagger hangyng in a lace had he
A boute his necke vnder his arme a doun̄
The hote somer had made his hewe al broun̄
And certeinly he was a gode felawe
Ful many a drauȝt of wyn had he drawe
From Burdeux ward while the shipman slepe
Of nyce conscience toke he no kepe
If that he fauȝt and had the hiȝer hand
By water he sent hem ouer to eueri land
But of his craft to rekne wel his tides
The streemes and his daungier him be sides
His herberwe and his mone ⁊and his lodemanage
Ther nas no such from hull to Cartage
Hardy he was and wise to vndertake
With many a tempest had his berd be shake
He knewe wel all the hauenes as thei were
Fro Gotlond to the cape of Fynistere
And eueri creike in Britayne ⁊and in Spayne
His barge I clepid was the Maudeleyne
With vs ther was a doctour of Phisik
In all this world ne was ther non him like
To speke of Phisik and of surgerye
For he was grounded in astronomye
He kept his pacient a full gret del
In houres be his magik naturel
Wel couthe he fortune the ascendent
Of his ymages for his pacient
He knewe the cause of eueri maladye
Were it of hote or colde or moist or drye
And where hit engendrid ⁊and of what humoᵘur
He was a verri parfiȝt practisour
The cause I knowe ⁊and of his harme the roote
A nōn he yaf the sike man his bote
Ful redy had he his appoticaries
To sende him drogges ⁊and his lectuaries
For eche of hem made othir for to wynne
Here frendship nas nat newe to be gynne
Wel knewe he the olde Esculapius
And deiscorides and eke rufus
Olde Ipocras haly and Galyen
Serapion Rafis and Auyȝen
Aủerois Damascien and Constantyn
Bernard and Gatisden and Gilberteyn
Of his diete mesurable was he
For it was no superfluite
But of gret norisshing degestible
His study was but litill on the bible
In sangueyn and in Pers he clad was all
Lyned with teffata and with sendall
And yet he was but esy of despence
He kept that he wan in pestilence
For gold in Phisik is acordiall
Therfor he loued golde in speciall
A good wif was there beside Bathe
But she was somdell deef and that was scathe
Of cloth making she had such an haunte
She passed hem of ypres and of Gaunt
In all the parissh wif was there non
That to the offryng before here shuld goon
And if ther did certein so wroth was she
That she was out of alle charite
Here kerchers full fyne were of ground
I durst swere thei weyeden̄ . x . pound
That on sonday weren vpon here hede
Here hosen weren of fyne scarlet rede
Full streite I tyed and shoes full moist and newe
Bolde was here face and faire ⁊and rede of hewe
She was a worthi womman̄ all hir lyue
Husbondes at the chirche dore she had fyue
Withouten othir company in youthe
But therof nedeth not to speke as nouthe
And thries had she ben at Iherusalem
She had passid many a straunge streem
At Rome she had ben and at Boloyne
In Galys at seint Iame and at Coloigne
She couthe mechel of wandring by the wey
Gat tothed was she sothely for to sey
Vpon an Aumbler esily she sat
I wympled wel and on here hede an hatte
As brode as is a Bokeler or a targe
A foot mantel a boute here hipes large
And on hir feet a peire of spores sharp
In felaship wel couthe she laughe ⁊and carpe
Of remedies of loue she knewe ꝑpar chaunce
For she couthe of that art the olde daunce
A gode man was ther of religioıı̄un
And was a pore persoıı̄un of a toun
But riche he was of holy thouȝt and werke
He was also a lerned man a Clerk
That Cristes gospel truly wolde preche
His ꝑparisshounes deuoutely wolde he teche
Benigne he was and wonder diligent
And in aduersite full pacient
And such he was proued ofte sithes
Full loth were him to cursyn for his tithes
But rather wolde he yeuen out of doute
Vnto his pouer ꝑparisshons aboute
Of his offryng and eke of his substaunce
He couthe in litill thing haue suffisaunce
Wide was his parissh and houses fer a sondre
But he laft nat for reyn ne for thundre
In sekenesse nor in mischief to visite
The ferrest in his parissh moch and lyte
Vpon his feet and in his hand a staf
This noble ensample to his sheep he yaf
That first he wrouȝt ⁊and aftirward he tauȝt
Out of the gospell he tho wordes cauȝt
And eke this figure hadded he therto
That if gold ruste what shuld yren do
For if a preest be foule on whom we trust
No wondre is a leude man to ruste
And shame it is if a preest take kepe
A shiten shepperd and a clene sheep
Wel ouȝt a preest ensaunple for to yeue
By his clennesse hou that his shepe shuld lyue
He set nat his benefice to hyre
And let his sheep accombred in the myre
And ran to londoıı̄un vnto seint Poules
To seken him a chauntrye for soules
Or with a bretherhede to ben witholde
But dwelt at hoom and kept wel his folde
So that the wolff ne made it not myscarye
He was a shepperd and not a mercenarye
And thouȝ he holy were and vertuous
He was not to synfull dispitous
Ne of his speche daungerous ne digne
But in his teching discret and benigne
To drawen folk to heuen by fayrenesse
By good ensample this was his besinesse
But it were any persone obstinat
What so he were of lowe or hiȝe estat
Him wolde he snybben sharpely for the nones
A better preest I trowe that nowher non is
He waited aftir no pompe and reuerence
Ne maked him a spiced conscience
But cristes lore and his apostles twelue
He tauȝt / but first he folwed it him selue .
With him ther was A plouȝ man that was his brother
That had I lad of dunge full many a fother
A trewe swinker and a good was he
Lyuyng in pees and parfiȝt charite
God loued he best with all his herte
At alle tymes thouȝ he gamed or smerte
And than his neiȝbour riȝt as him selue
He wold thressh and therto dyke and delue
For cristes sake for eueri pouer wiȝt
Withouten hyre if it lay in his miȝt
His tithes paid he full faire and well
Bothe of his propre swynk ⁊and his catell
In a tabard he rode vpon a mere
Ther was also A Reue and a Millere
A sompnoᵘur and a pardoner also
A Manciple and my self ther was nomo
The Millere was a stoute carle for the nones
Full big he was of braun and eke of bones
That preued wel for ouerall there he cam
At wrastlyng he wold haue alwey the ram
He was short shuldred a propre thikke knarre
There was no dore that he ne wolde heue of harre
Or breke it at a rennyng with his heed
His berd as any sowe or fox was rede
And therto brode as thouȝ it were a spade
Vp on the cop riȝt on his nose he hade
A wert / and theron stood a tuft of heres
Rede as the bristeles of sowes eres
His nose thrilles blak were and wide
A swerd and bokeler bar he be his side
His mouth gret was as a gret forneis
He was a iangeler and a goliardeis
And that was most of synne and harlotries
Wel couthe he stelen corn and tollen thries
And yet he had a thombe of gold parde
A white cote and a blew hood wered he
A bagpipe wel couthe he blowe and soun
And therwith all he brouȝt us out of toune
A gentil Manciple was ther of a Temple
Of which all acchatours miȝt take ensample
For to ben wise in byeng of vitayle
For whethir that he paid or took be tayle
Algate he waited so in his achate
That he was ay befor and in gode estate
Now is nat that of god a full faire grace
That such a leude mannes wit shal pace
The wisdam of an hep of lerned men
Of mastres had he mo than thries ten
That were of lawe expert and curious
Of which ther was a dosein in that hous
Worthi to ben stiwardes of rent and londe
Of any lord that is in Engelond
To make him lyue by his propre gode
In honour detteles but if he were wode
Or lyue as scarsely as him list desire
And able for to helpen al a shire
In any caas that miȝt falle or happe
And yet this Manciple set her alder cappe
The Reue was a slendir colerik man
His berd was shaue as niȝ as euer he can
His heer was be his eres ful rounde I shorn
His toppe was dokked like a prest beforn
Ful longe were his leggis and ful lene
I like a staf ther was no calf I seene
Wel couthe he kepe a gerner ⁊and a bynne
Ther was non auditoᵘur that coude on him wynne
Wel wist he by the droute and by the reyne
The yelding of his seed and of his greyne
His lordes shepe his nete his dayerye
His swyn . his hors . his stoor ⁊and his pultrie
Was holy in this Reues gouerning
And by his couenᵃnt yaf the rekening
Syn that his lord was . xx yere of age
Ther couthe no man bringe him in arrerage
Ther nas baillif ne hierde nor othir hyne
That he ne knewe his sliȝt and his couyne
They were a drad of him as of the deth
His wonyng was ful faire vpon an heeth
With grene trees shadewed was his place
He couthe bettir than his lord purchace
Ful riche he was a stored priuily
His lord he coude wel plesen subtily
To yeue and lend him of his owne good
And haue a thank and eke a cote and an hood
In youthe he had lerned a gode myster
He was a wel gode wright A Carpenter
This Reue sat vpon a full gode stot
That was pomely grey and hiȝt scot
A long surcote of Pers vpon he hade
And by his side he bar a rusty blade
Of Northfolk was this Reue of which I telle
Besides a toun men clepe it Baldeswelle
Tokked he was as is a frere a boute
And euer he rode the hinderest of oure route
A sompnoᵘur was ther with vs in that place
That had a fyre rede cherubynnes face
For saucefleme he was with eyen narwe
As hote he was ⁊and leccherous as is a sparwe
With scallid browes blak and piled berd
Of his visage children were a ferde
Ther nas quikke siluer litarge nor brymston
Boras Ceruse ne oyle of Tarter noon
No oynement that wold clense and byte
That him miȝt helpen of his whelkes white
Nor of the knobbes sitting on his chekes
Wel loued he garlik oynons and eke lekes
And for to drinken strong wyn rede as blood
Than wolde he speke and crye as he were wood
And whan he wel dronken had the wyn
Than wolde he speke no word but latyn
A fewe termes had he ij or iij
That he had lerned out of som decree
No wonder is he it herde all the day
And eke ye knowen wel hou that a Iay
Can clepe watte as wel as can the Pope
But who so couthe in othir thing him grope
Than had he spent all his Philosophie
Ay questio que iuris wolde he crye
He was a gentill harlot and a kynde
A better felaw shul men nouȝt fynde
He wolde suffre for a quart of wyn
A gode felawe to haue his concubyne
A twelmonth and excuse him at the fulle
Full priuely a fynche couthe he pulle
And if he fond owher a gode felawe
He wold techen him to haue non awe
In such caas of the Archedekenes curs
But if mannes soule were in his purs
For in his purs he shall I punysshed be
Purs is the Archedekenes helle said he
But wel I wot he lied riȝt in dede
Of cursing ouȝt eche gilty man drede
For curs will sle riȝt as assoilyng saueth
And also ware him of a significauit
In daungier had he at his owne gise
The yonge girles of the diocise
And knewe here counseill and was all here rede
A garlond had he set vpon his hede
As gret as it were for an Ale stake
A Bokeler had he made him of a cake .
With him ther rod a gentil pardoner
Of Rounceuale / his frend ⁊and his comper
That streite was comen from the court of Rome
Full loude he song come hider loue to me
This sompnoᵘur bar to him a stif burdoıı̄un
Was neuer trompe of half so gret a soun
This Pardoner had heer as yelwe as wax
But smothe it henge as doth a strike of flax
By vnces henge his lokkes that he hadde
And ther with he his shuldres ouer spradde
But thynne it lay by culpons by oon and oon
But hode for iolite wered he non
For it was trussed vp in his walett
Him thouȝt he rod all of the newe Iet
Discheuele saue his cappe he rode all bare
Such glaryng yen had he as an hare
A vernicle had he sewed vpon his cappe
His walet beforn him in his lappe
Bred ful of Pardoıı̄un comen from Rome al hote
A voyce he hath as small as hath a gote
No berde had he ne neuer shuld haue
As smothe it was as it were late shaue
I trowe he were a gelding or a mare
But of his craft fro Berwyk vnto ware
Ne was ther such an othir pardoner
For in his male he had a pilwe bere
Which that he said was oure lady vayle
He said he had a gobet of the sayle
That seint Petir had whan that he went
Vpon the see / til IħuIhesu crist him hent
He had a crosse of latoıı̄un ful of stones
And in a glas he had pigges bones
But with this relikes whan that he fonde
A pouer persoıı̄un dwelling vpon londe
Vpon a day he gat more money
Than that the person gat in monthes twey
And thus with feyned flatery and iapes
He made the person and the people his apes
But truly to tellen at the last
He was in chirche a noble Ecclesiast
Wel couthe he rede a lesson or a story
But alderbest he song an offertory
For wel he wist whan that song was songe
He must preche and wel enfile his tonge
To wynne siluer as he wel coude
Therfor he song the merilier and loude
¶ Now haue I tolde you sothely in a clause
The estat . the array . the nombre and eke the cause
Why that assembled was this company
In Southwerk at the gentill hostilry
That hiȝt the Tabard fast by the Belle
But now is tyme for you to telle
How that we baren us that ilke niȝt
Whan we were in that hostelrye a liȝt
And aftir will I telle of oure viage
And all the remenᵃnt of oure pilgrimage
But first I pray you of your curtesy
That ye ne rette it nauȝt in vilanye
Thouȝ that I pleinly speke in this matere
To telle you here wordes and here chiere
Ne thouȝ I speke here wordes propirly
For this ye knowe als wel as I .
Who so shal tellen a tale aftir a man
He mote reherce as ny as euer he can
Euerich a worde if it be in his charge
All speke he neuer so rudely ne large
Orellis he mot telle his tale vntrewe
Or feyne thinges or fynden wordes newe
He may not spare al thouȝ he were his brothir
He mot aswel say oon wurd as an othir
Crist spak him self ful brode in holy wrytte
And wel ye wot no vilany is hit
Eke Plato seith who so can him rede
The wordes mot be cosin to the dede
Also I pray you foryeue it me
All haue I nat set folk in her degree
Here in this tale as that they shulde stonde
My wit is short ye may wel vnderstonde
¶ Gret chiere made oure oost vs euericheon
And to the soper he set vs anon
He serued vs with vitayle at the best
Strong was the wyn and wel to drynke us beste
A semely man was oure oost with all
For to ben A Marchall in an halle
A large man he was with yen stepe
A fairer Burgeys was non in chepe
Bolde of his speche and wys and wel I taught
And of manhod he lakkid riȝt nouȝt
Eke therto he was a mery man
And aftir soper pleyen he bigan
And spak of mirthe among othir thinges
Whan that we had mad oure rekenynges
And seide thus now lordinges truly
Ye ben to me right welcome hertely
For by my trouthe if that I shal nat lye
I sey not this yere so mery a company
Atones in this herberwe as is now
Fayn wolde I do you merthe and I wist hou
And of a mirthe I am riȝt now bethouȝt
To don you ese and it shal coste nouȝt
Ye gon to Caunterbury god you spede
The blisfull martir quyte you your mede
And wel I wot as ye gon by the wey
Ye shapen you to talen and to pley
For truly confort ne mirthe is noon
To riden by the wey dombe as the stoon
And therfor wol I maken you disport
As I said arst / and don you som comfort
And if you liketh all by oon assent
For to stonden at my Iugement
And for to werken as I shal you sey
To morwe whan ye ryden by the wey
Now be my fader soule that is ded
But ye be mery I wil yeue you my hed
¶ Holde vp your hond withoute more speche
Oure counseill was not longe to seche
Vs thouȝt it was not worth to make it wise
And graunted him withoute more auyse
And bad him sey his veredite as him leste
Now lordinges qd he herkeneth for the beste
But take it nat I pray you in disdeyn
This is the poynt to speke it short and playn
That eche of you to short with your wey
In this viage shal tellen tales twey
To Caunterburyward I mene it so
And homward he shal tellen othir ij
Of auentures that whilom haue be falle
And which of you bereth him best of alle
That is to seyn that tellith in this caas
Tales of best sentence and most solas
Shal haue a soper at oure alder cost
Here in this place sittyng by this post
Whan that we come agein fro Caunterbury
And for to make you the more mery
I wol my self godely with you ryde
Riȝt at myn owne cost and be your gide
And who so wil my iugement with sey
Shal pay all that we spende by the wey
And if ye vouchesaf that it be so
Telle me anon withoute wordes mo
And I wil erely shape me therfore
These thinges were graunted ⁊and oure othes swore
With full glad herte ⁊and preyen him also
That he wil vouchesaf for to do so
And that he wold be oure gouernoᵘur
And of oure tales iuge and reportoᵘur
And set a soper at a certain pris
And we wil ruled ben at his deuys
In highe and lowe ⁊and thus be oon assent
We ben accorded to the Iugement
And therupon the wyn was fet anon
We dronken and to reest went echeon
Withoute any lenger tarieng
A morwe whan that day gan to sprynge
Vp ros oure oost and was oure alder cok
And gadered us to gidre in a flok
And forth we ryden a litel more than paas
Vnto the watering of seint Thomas
And there oure oost bigan his hors areste
And seid lordes herkeneth if you leste
Ye wot your forward ⁊and I it you recorde
If euyn song ⁊and morwe song acorde
Lat se now who shal telle the first tale
As euer I mot drinke wyn or ale
Who so be rebell to my iugement
Shal pay for all that by the wey is spent
Now draweth cut or we further twynne
He which that hath the shortest shall begynne
¶ Sir qd he my mastir ⁊and my lord
Now draweth cutte for that is myn accord
Cometh nere qd he my lady Prioresse
And ye sir Clerk lat be your shamefastnesse
Ne studieth nouȝt ley honde to eueri man
Anon to drawe eueri wiȝt bigan
And shortly for to tellen as it was
Were it by auenture or soort or caas
The soth is this the cut fel to the kniȝt
Of which ful blithe ⁊and glad was eueri wiȝt
And tellen he mot his tale as it was resoıı̄un
By forward and by composicioıı̄un
As ye han herd what nedes wordes moo
And whan this godeman saw that it was soo
As he that wise was and obedient
To kepe his forward by his free assent
He seide syn I shal begynne the game
What welcome be the cutte on goddes name
Now lat us ride and herkeneth what I sey
And with that word we riden forth oure wey
And he bigan with riȝt a mery chiere
His tale anon ⁊and seide as ye may here .
Iamqꝫue domos priāsatrias scithice post aspꝑpera gentis p̉relia lauri
gero ⁊et ce~etera.
gero ⁊et ce~etera.
Hic incipit fabula militis .
Uhilom as olde stories tellen us
Ther was a Duc that hiȝt Theseus
Of Athenes he was lord ⁊and gouernoᵘur
And in his tyme such a conqueroᵘur
That gretter was ther non vnder the sonne
Full many a riche contre had he wonne
What with his wysdam ⁊and his chiualrye
He conquered the reigne of Femynye
That whilom was cleped Scithia
And wedded the quene ypolita
And brouȝt her hom with him in his contre
With mochel glory and gret solempnite
And eke here yong suster Emelie
And thus with victory and melodie
Lat I this noble duc to Athenes ride
And all his oost in armes him biside
And certes if it nere to long to here
I wolde haue told you fully the manere
Hou wunnen was the reigne of Femynye
By Theseus and by his chiualrye
And of the grete bataile for the nones
Betwix Athenes and Amazones