The Prologue to the Tale of Sir Thopas
691: Whan seyd was al this miracle, every man 
692: As sobre was that wonder was to se, 
693: Til that oure hooste japen tho bigan, 
694: And thanne at erst he looked upon me, 
695: And seyde thus: what man artow? quod he; 
696: Thou lookest as thou woldest fynde an hare, 
697: For evere upon the ground I se thee stare. 
698: Approche neer, and looke up murily. 
699: Now war yow, sires, and lat this man have place! 
700: He in the waast is shape as wel as I; 
701: This were a popet in an arm t' enbrace 
702: For any womman, smal and fair of face. 
703: He semeth elvyssh by his contenaunce, 
704: For unto no wight dooth he daliaunce. 
705: Sey now somwhat, syn oother folk han sayd; 
706: Telle us a tale of myrthe, and that anon. 
707: Hooste, quod I, ne beth nat yvele apayd, 
708: For oother tale certes kan I noon, 
709: But of a rym I lerned longe agoon. 
710: Ye, that is good, quod he; now shul we heere 
711: Som deyntee thyng, me thynketh by his cheere.

The Tale of Sir Thopas

Fitt I
712: Listeth, lordes, in good entent, 
713: And I wol telle verrayment 
714: Of myrthe and of solas; 
715: Al of a knyght was fair and gent 
716: In bataille and in tourneyment, 
717: His name was sire thopas. 
718: Yborn he was in fer contree, 
719: In flaundres, al biyonde the see, 
720: At poperyng, in the place. 
721: His fader was a man ful free, 
722: And lord he was of that contree, 
723: As it was goddes grace. 
724: Sire thopas wax a doghty swayn; 
725: Whit was his face as payndemayn, 
726: His lippes rede as rose; 
727: His rode is lyk scarlet in grayn, 
728: And I yow telle in good certayn, 
729: He hadde a semely nose. 
730: His heer, his berd was lyk saffroun, 
731: That to his girdel raughte adoun; 
732: His shoon of cordewane. 
733: Of brugges were his hosen broun, 
734: His robe was of syklatoun, 
735: That coste many a jane. 
736: He koude hunte at wilde deer, 
737: And ride an haukyng for river 
738: With grey goshauk on honde; 
739: Therto he was a good archeer; 
740: Of wrastlyng was ther noon his peer, 
741: Ther any ram shal stonde. 
742: Ful many a mayde, bright in bour, 
743: They moorne for hym paramour, 
744: Whan hem were bet to slepe; 
745: But he was chaast and no lechour, 
746: And sweete as is the brembul flour 
747: That bereth the rede hepe. 
748: And so bifel upon a day, 
749: For sothe, as I yow telle may, 
750: Sire thopas wolde out ride. 
751: He worth upon his steede gray, 
752: And in his hand a launcegay, 
753: A long swerd by his side. 
754: He priketh thurgh a fair forest, 
755: Therinne is many a wilde best, 
756: Ye, bothe bukke and hare; 
757: And as he priketh north and est, 
758: I telle it yow, hym hadde almest 
759: Bitid a sory care. 
760: Ther spryngen herbes grete and smale, 
761: The lycorys and the cetewale, 
762: And many a clowe-gylofre; 
763: And notemuge to putte in ale, 
764: Wheither it be moyste or stale, 
765: Or for to leye in cofre. 
766: The briddes synge, it is no nay, 
767: The sparhauk and the papejay, 
768: That joye it was to heere; 
769: The thrustelock made eek his lay, 
770: The wodedowve upon the spray 
771: She sang ful loude and cleere. 
772: Sire thopas fil in love-longynge, 
773: Al whan he herde the thrustel synge, 
774: And pryked as he were wood. 
775: His faire steede in his prikynge 
776: So swatte that men myghte him wrynge; 
777: His sydes were al blood. 
778: Sire thopas eek so wery was 
779: For prikyng on the softe gras, 
780: So fiers was his corage, 
781: That doun he leyde him in that plas 
782: To make his steede som solas, 
783: And yaf hym good forage. 
784: O seinte marie, benedicite! 
785: What eyleth this love at me 
786: To bynde me so soore? 
787: Me dremed al this nyght, pardee, 
788: An elf-queene shal my lemman be 
789: And slepe under my goore. 
790: An elf-queene wol I love, ywis, 
791: For in this world no womman is 
792: Worthy to be my make 
793: In towne; 
794: Alle othere wommen I forsake, 
795: And to an elf-queene I me take 
796: By dale and eek by downe! 
797: Into his sadel he clamb anon, 
798: And priketh over stile and stoon 
799: An elf-queene for t' espye, 
800: Til he so longe hath riden and goon 
801: That he foond, in a pryve woon, 
802: The contree of fairye 
803: So wilde; 
804: For in that contree was ther noon 
805: That to him durste ride or goon, 
806: Neither wyf ne childe; 
807: Til that ther cam a greet geaunt, 
808: His name was sire olifaunt, 
809: A perilus man of dede. 
810: He seyde, child, by termagaunt! 
811: But if thou prike out of myn haunt, 
812: Anon I sle thy steede 
813: With mace. 
814: Heere is the queene of fayerye, 
815: With harpe and pipe and symphonye, 
816: Dwellynge in this place. 
817: The child seyde, also moote I thee, 
818: Tomorwe wol I meete with thee, 
819: Whan I have myn armoure; 
820: And yet I hope, par ma fay, 
821: That thou shalt with this launcegay 
822: Abyen it ful sowre. 
823: Thy mawe 
824: Shal I percen, if I may, 
825: Er it be fully pryme of day, 
826: For heere thow shalt be slawe. 
827: Sire thopas drow abak ful faste; 
828: This geant at hym stones caste 
829: Out of a fel staf-slynge. 
830: But faire escapeth child thopas, 
831: And al it was thurgh goddes gras, 
832: And thurgh his fair berynge. 
833: Yet listeth, lordes, to my tale 
834: Murier than the nightyngale, 
835: For now I wol yow rowne 
836: How sir thopas, with sydes smale, 
837: Prikyng over hill and dale, 
838: Is comen agayn to towne. 
839: His myrie men comanded he 
840: To make hym bothe game and glee, 
841: For nedes moste he fighte 
842: With a geaunt with hevedes three, 
843: For paramour and jolitee 
844: Of oon that shoon ful brighte. 
845: Do come, he seyde, my mynstrale, 
846: And geestours for to tellen tales, 
847: Anon in myn armynge, 
848: Of romances that been roiales, 
849: Of popes and of cardinales, 
850: And eek of love-likynge. 
851: They fette hym first the sweet wyn, 
852: And mede eek in a mazelyn, 
853: And roial spicerye 
854: Of gyngebreed that was ful fyn, 
855: And lycorys, and eek comyn, 
856: With sugre that is trye. 
857: He dide next his white leere, 
858: Of cloth of lake fyn and cleere, 
859: A breech and eek a sherte; 
860: And next his sherte an aketoun, 
861: And over that an haubergeoun 
862: For percynge of his herte; 
863: And over that a fyn hawberk, 
864: Was al ywroght of jewes werk, 
865: Ful strong it was of plate; 
866: And over that his cote-armour 
867: As whit as is a lilye flour, 
868: In which he wol debate. 
869: His sheeld was al of gold so reed, 
870: And therinne was a bores heed, 
871: A charbocle bisyde; 
872: And there he swoor on ale and breed 
873: How that the geaunt shal be deed, 
874: Bityde what bityde! 
875: His jambeux were of quyrboilly, 
876: His swerdes shethe of ivory, 
877: His helm of latoun bright; 
878: His sadel was of rewel boon, 
879: His brydel as the sonne shoon, 
880: Or as the moone light. 
881: His spere was of fyn ciprees, 
882: That bodeth werre, and nothyng pees, 
883: The heed ful sharpe ygrounde; 
884: His steede was al dappull gray, 
885: It gooth an ambil in the way 
886: Ful softely and rounde 
887: In londe. 
888: Loo, lordes myne, heere is a fit! 
889: If ye wol any moore of it, 
890: To telle it wol I fonde. 

Fitt II

891: Now holde youre mouth, par charitee, 
892: Bothe knyght and lady free, 
893: And herkneth to my spelle; 
894: Of bataille and of chivalry, 
895: And of ladyes love-drury 
896: Anon I wol yow telle. 
897: Men speken of romances of prys, 
898: Of horn child and of ypotys, 
899: Of beves and sir gy, 
900: Of sir lybeux and pleyndamour, -- 
901: But sir thopas, he bereth the flour 
902: Of roial chivalry! 
903: His goode steede al he bistrood, 
904: And forth upon his wey he glood 
905: As sparcle out of the bronde; 
906: Upon his creest he bar a tour, 
907: And therinne stiked a lilie flour, -- 
908: God shilde his cors for shonde! 
909: And for he was a knyght auntrous, 
910: He nolde slepen in noon hous, 
911: But liggen in his hoode; 
912: His brighte helm was his wonger, 
913: And by hym baiteth his dextrer 
914: Of herbes fyne and goode. 
915: Hymself drank water of the well, 
916: As dide the knyght sire percyvell 
917: So worthy under wede, 
918: Til on a day -- 

The Host's Interruption of the Tale of Sir Thopas
919: Namoore of this, for goddes dignitee, 
920: Quod oure hooste, for thou makest me 
921: So wery of thy verray lewednesse 
922: That, also wisly God my soule blesse, 
923: Myne eres aken of thy drasty speche. 
924: Now swich a rym the devel I biteche! 
925: This may wel be rym dogerel, quod he. 
926: Why so? quod I, why wiltow lette me 
927: Moore of my tale than another man, 
928: Syn that it is the beste rym I kan? 
929: By god, quod he, for pleynly, at a word, 
930: Thy drasty rymyng is nat worth a toord! 
931: Thou doost noght elles but despendest tyme. 
932: Sire, at o word, thou shalt no lenger ryme. 
933: Lat se wher thou kanst tellen aught in geeste, 
934: Or telle in prose somwhat, at the leeste, 
935: In which ther be som murthe or som doctryne 
936: Gladly, quod I, by goddes sweete pyne! 
937: I wol yow telle a litel thyng in prose 
938: That oghte liken yow, as I suppose, 
939: Or elles, certes, ye been to daungerous. 
940: It is a moral tale vertuous, 
941: Al be it told somtyme in sondry wyse 
942: Of sondry folk, as I shal yow devyse. 
943: As thus: ye woot that every evaungelist, 
944: That telleth us the peyne of jhesu crist, 
945: Ne seith nat alle thyng as his felawe dooth; 
946: But nathelees hir sentence is al sooth, 
947: And alle acorden as in hire sentence, 
948: Al be ther in hir tellyng difference. 
949: For somme of hem seyn moore, and somme seyn lesse, 
950: Whan they his pitous passioun expresse -- 
951: I meene of mark, mathew, luc, and john -- 
952: But doutelees hir sentence is al oon. 
953: Therfore, lordynges alle, I yow biseche, 
954: If that yow thynke I varie as in my speche, 
955: As thus, though that I telle somwhat moore 
956: Of proverbes than ye han herd bifoore 
957: Comprehended in this litel tretys heere, 
958: To enforce with th' effect of my mateere, 
959: And though I nat the same wordes seye 
960: As ye han herd, yet to yow alle I preye 
961: Blameth me nat; for, as in my sentence, 
962: Shul ye nowher fynden difference 
963: Fro the sentence of this tretys lyte 
964: After the which this murye tale I write. 
965: And therfore herkneth what that I shal seye, 
966: And lat me tellen al my tale, I preye.

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