Of rómances that be royáls,3896
Of popës and of cardinals,
And eke of love-longíng.”
They fetch’d him first the sweetë wine,
And mead eke in a maseline,3897
And royal spicery;
Of ginger-bread that was full fine,
And liquorice and eke cumin,
With sugar that is trie.3898
He diddë,3899 next his whitë lere,3900
Of cloth of lakë3901 fine and clear,
A breech and eke a shirt;
And next his shirt an haketon,3902
And over that an habergeon,3903
For piercing of his heart;
And over that a fine hauberk,3904
Was all y-wrought of Jewës’3905 werk,
Full strong it was of plate;
And over that his coat-armoúr,3906
As white as is the lily flow’r,
In which he would debate.3907
His shield was all of gold so red,
And therein was a boarë’s head,
A charboucle3908 beside;
And there he swore on ale and bread,
How that the giant should be dead,
Betide whatso betide.
His jambeaux3909 were of cuirbouly,3910
His swordë’s sheath of ivory,
His helm of latoun3911 bright,
His saddle was of rewel3912 bone,
His bridle as the sunnë shone,
Or as the moonëlight.
His spearë was of fine cypress,
That bodeth war, and nothing peace;
The head full sharp y-ground.
His steedë was all dapple gray,
It went an amble in the way
Full softëly and round
In land.
Lo, Lordës mine, here is a fytt;3913
If ye will any more of it,
To tell it will I fand.3914
Now hold your mouth for charity,
Bothë knight and lady free,
And hearken to my spell;3915
Of battle and of chivalry,
Of ladies’ love and druerie,3916
Anon I will you tell.
Men speak of rómances of price3917
Of Horn Child, and of Ipotis,
Of Bevis, and Sir Guy,3918
Of Sir Libeux,3919 and Pleindamour,
But Sir Thopas, he bears the flow’r
Of royal chivalry.
His goodë steed he all bestrode,
And forth upon his way he glode,3920
As sparkle out of brand;3921
Upon his crest he bare a tow’r,
And therein stick’d a lily flow’r;
God shield his corse from shand!3922
And, for he was a knight auntroús,3923
He wouldë sleepen in none house,
But liggen3924 in his hood,
His brightë helm was his wangér,3925
And by him baited his destrér3926
Of herbës fine and good.
Himself drank water of the well,
As did the knight Sir Percivel,3927
So worthy under weed;
Till on a day—
⋮
Chaucer’s Tale of Meliboeus
The Prologue
“No more of this, for Goddë’s dignity!”
Quoth ourë Hostë; “for thou makest me
So weary of thy very lewëdness,3928
That, all so wisly3929 God my soulë bless,
Mine earës achë for thy drafty3930 speech.
Now such a rhyme the devil I beteche:3931
This may well be rhyme doggerel,” quoth he.
“Why so?” quoth I; “why wilt thou lettë3932 me
More of my tale than any other man,
Since that it is the best rhyme that I can?”
“By God!” quoth he, “for, plainly at one word,
Thy drafty rhyming is not worth a tord:
Thou dost naught ellës but dispendest3933 time.
Sir, at one word, thou shalt no longer rhyme.
Let see whe’er3934 thou canst tellen aught in gest,3935
Or tell in prosë somewhat, at the least,
In which there be some mirth or some doctríne.”3936
“Gladly,” quoth I, “by Goddë’s sweetë pine,3937
I will you tell a little thing in prose,
That oughtë likë you,3938 as I suppose,
Or else certés ye be too dangerous.3939
It is a moral talë virtuous,
All be it3940 told sometimes in sundry wise
By sundry folk, as I shall you devise.
As thus, ye wot that ev’ry Evangelist,
That telleth us the pain3941 of Jesus Christ,
He saith not all thing as his fellow doth;
But natheless their sentence is all soth,3942
And all accorden as in their senténce,3943
All be there in their telling differénce;
For some of them say more, and some say less,
When they his piteous passión express;
I mean of Mark and Matthew, Luke and John;
But doubtëless their sentence is all one.
Therefore, lordingës all, I you beseech,
If that ye think I vary in my speech,
As thus, though that I tellë some deal more
Of proverbës, than ye have heard before
Comprehended in this little treatise here,
T’ enforcë with3944 the effect of my mattére,
And though I not the same wordës say
As ye have heard, yet to you all I pray
Blame me not; for as in my senténce
Shall ye nowhere findë no differénce
From the senténce of thilkë3945 treatise lite,3946
After the which this merry tale I write.
And therefore hearken to what I shall say,
And let me tellen all my tale, I pray.”
The Tale3947
A young man called Meliboeus, mighty and rich, begat upon his wife, that callëd was Prudence, a daughter which that callëd was Sophia. Upon a day befell, that he for his disport went into the fields him to play. His wife and eke his daughter hath he left within his house, of which the doors were fast shut. Three of his old foes have it espied, and set ladders to the walls of his house, and by the windows be entered, and beaten his wife, and wounded his daughter with five mortal wounds, in five sundry places; that is to say, in her feet, in her hands, in her ears, in her nose, and in her mouth; and left her for dead, and went away. When Meliboeus returned was into his house, and saw all this mischief, he, like a man mad, rending his clothes, gan weep and cry. Prudence his wife,
