Ther was also a Nonne, a Prioresse,
That of hir smylyng was ful symple and coy.
Hire gretteste ooth was but by seint Loy,
And she was cleped madame Englentyne.
fful weel she soong the seruice dyuyne,
Entuned in hir nose ful semeely;
And frenssh she spak ful faire and fetisly
After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe,
ffor frenssh of Parys was to hire vnknowe.
At mete wel ytaught was she with alle:
She leet no morsel from hir lippes falle,
Ne wette hir fyngres in hir sauce depe;
Wel koude she caries a morsel and wel kepe,
That no drope ne fill vp on hire brist.
In curteisie was set ful muchel hir list:
Hir ouer lippe wyped she so clene
That in hir coppe ther was no ferthyng sene
Of grace, whan she dronken hadde hir draughte;
fful semely she was of greet desport,
And ful plesaunt and amyable of port,
And peyned hire to countrefete cheere
Of Court, and to been estatlich of manere,
And to ben holden digne of reuerence.
But for to speken of hire conscience,
She was so charitable and so pitous,
She wolde wepe if that she saught a Mous
Kaught in a trappe, if it were deed of bledde.
Of smale houndes hadde she that she fedde
With rosted flessh, or Milk and wastel breed.
But soore wepte she if any of hem were deed,
Or of men smoot it with a yerde smerte,
And al was conscience and tendre herte.
fful semyly hir wympul pynched was,
Hir nose tretys, hir eyen greye as glas,
Hir mouth ful smal and ther to softe and reed,
But sikerly she hadde a fair forheed,
It was almoost a spanne brood, I trowe,
ffor, hardily, she was nat vndergrowe.
fful fetys was hir cloke, as I was war.
Of smal coral aboute hire Arm she bar
A peire of bedes, gauded al with grene,
And ther on heng a brooch of gold ful sheene,
On which ther was first write a crowned .A.,
And after, Amor vincit omnia.
	Another Nonne with hire hadde she,
That was hir Chapeleyne, and preestes thre.
	A Monk ther was, a fair for the maistrie,
An outridere that louede venerie,
A manly man to been an Abbot able.
fful many a deyntee hors hadde he in stable,
and what he rrod, men myghte his brydel heere
Gynglen in a whistlynge wynd als cleere
And eek as loude as dooth the Chapel belle,
Ther as this lord was kepere of the Celle.
The reule of seint Maure of of seint Beneit,
By cause that it was old and som del streit,
This ilke Monk leet olde thynges pace
And heeld after the newe world the space.
He yaf nat of that text a pulled hen
That seith that hunters beth nat hooly men,
Ne that a Monk whan he recchelees
Is likned til a fissh that is waterlees,
This is to seyn a Monk out of his Cloystere.
Buth thilke text heeld he nat worth an Oystre,
And I seyde his opinion was good,
What sholde he studie and make hym seluen wood
Vp on a book in Cloystre alwey to poure,
Or swynken with his hande, and laboure,
As Austyn bit? how shal the world be serued)
Lat Austyn haue his owene swynk to hym reserued!
Therfore he was a prikasour aright.
Grehoundes he hadde as swift as fowel in flight;
Of prikyng and of huntyng for the hare
Was al his lust, for no cost wolde he spare.
I seigh his sleues ypurfiled at the hond
With grys, and that the fyneste of a lond;
And for to festne his hood vnder his chyn
He hadde, of gold ywroght, a ful curious pyn.
A loue knotte in the gretter ende ther was.
His heed was balled, that shoon as any glas,
And eek his face, as it hadde been enoynt,
He was a lord ful fat and in good poynt;
Hise eyen stepe and rollynge in his heed,
That stemed as a forneys of a leed;
His bootes souple, his hors in greet estaat.
Now certainly he was a fair prelaat.
He nas nat pale as a forpyned goost.
A fat swan loued he best of any roost.
His palfrey was as broun as is a berye.