Canterbury Tales, Yr 7. Wednesday, 15 August 2012. From the prologue: PArdoner.
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With hymther rood a gentil pardoner Of rouncivale, his freend and his compeer,That streight was comen fro the court of rome.Fulloude he soong com hider, love, to me!This somonour bar to hym a stifburdoun;Was nevere trompe of half so greet a soun.This pardoner haddeheer as yelow as wex,But smothe it heeng as dooth a strike of flex;By ounces henge his lokkes that he hadde,And therwith he his shuldresoverspradde;But thynne it lay, by colponsoon and oon.But hood, for jolitee, wered he noon,For it was trussed up in his walet.Hymthoughte he rood al of the newe jet;Dischevelee, save his cappe, he rood al bare.Swicheglarynge eyen hadde he as an hare.A vernyclehadde he sowed upon his cappe.His walet lay bifornhym in his lappe,Bretfulof pardoun, comen from rome al hoot.A voys he hadde as smal as hath a goot.No berdhadde he, ne neveresholde have;As smothe it was as it were late shave.I trowe he were a geldyng or a mare.
A good wif was ther of biside bathe, But she was somdeldeef, and that was scathe. Of clooth-makyng she haddeswich an haunt,She passed hem of ypres and of gaunt.In al the parisshewif ne was ther noonThat to the offryngebifore hire sholde goon;And if therdide, certeyn so wrooth was she,: That she was out of allecharitee.: Hircoverchiefsfulfyneweren of ground;I dorsteswere they weyeden ten poundThat on a sondayweren upon hir heed.Hirhosen weren of fyn scarlet reed,Fulstreiteyteyd, and shoes fulmoyste and newe.Booldwas hir face, and fair, and reed of hewe.She was a worthy womman al hirlyve:Housbondesat chirchedore she haddefyve,Withoutenoothercompaignye in youthe, -- But therofnedethnat to speke as nowthe.And thrieshadde she been at jerusalem;She hadde passed many a straungestrem;: At rome she hadde been, and at boloigne,In galice at seint-jame, and at coloigne.She koudemuchel of wandrynge by the weye.Gat-tothedwas she, soothly for to seye.Upon an amblereesily she sat,Ywympledwel, and on hir heed an hat: As brood as is a bokeler or a targe;A foot-mantel aboutehirhipes large,: And on hir feet a paire of spores sharpe.: In felaweshipewelkoude she laughe and carpe.Of remedies of love she knew per chaunce,For she koude of that art the oldedaunce.
A knyghtther was, and that a worthy man, That fro the tyme that he first biganTo riden out, he loved chivalrie,Troutheand honour, fredom and curteisie.Fulworthy was he in his lordeswerre,And thertohadde he riden, no man ferre,As wel in cristendom as in hethenesse,And evere honoured for his worthynesse.At alisaundre he was whan it was wonne.Fuloftetyme he hadde the bordbigonneAbovenallenacions in pruce;In lettowhadde he reysed and in ruce,No cristen man so ofte of his degree.In gernade at the seege eek hadde he beOf algezir, and riden in belmarye.At lyeys was he and at satalye,Whanthey were wonne; and in the grete seeAt many a noble armeehadde he be.At mortal batailleshadde he been fiftene,And foughten for ourefeith at tramysseneIn lystesthries, and ay slayn his foo.This ilke worthy knyghthadde been alsoSomtymewith the lord of palatyeAgaynanother hethen in turkye.And everemoore he hadde a sovereynprys;And though that he were worthy, he was wys,And of his port as meeke as is a mayde.He nevere yet no vileynye ne saydeIn al his lyf unto no manerwight.He was a verray, parfitgentilknyght.
The millere was a stout carl for the nones; Fulbyg he was of brawn, and eek of bones.That proved wel, for over al ther he cam,At wrastlynge he wolde have alwey the ram.He was short-sholdred, brood, a thikkeknarre;Therwas no dore that he noldeheve of harre,Or breke it at a rennyng with his heed.His berd as any sowe or fox was reed,And therto brood, as though it were a spade.Upon the cop right of his nose he hadeA werte, and theron stood a toft of herys,Reed as the brustles of a soweserys;His nosethirlesblake were and wyde.A swerd and bokeler bar he by his syde.His mouth as greet was as a greet forneys.He was a janglere and a goliardeys,And that was moost of synne and harlotries.Welkoude he stelen corn and tollenthries;And yet he hadde a thombe of gold, pardee.A whit cote and a blew hood wered he.A baggepipewelkoude he blowe and sowne,And therwithal he broghte us out of towne.