<B CMCTVERS>
<Q M3 NI FICT CTPROL>
<N CT PROL>
<A CHAUCER GEOFFREY>
<C M3>
<O 1350-1420>
<M 1350-1420>
<K X>
<D EML>
<V VERSE>
<T FICTION>
<G X>
<F X>
<W WRITTEN>
<X MALE>
<Y 40-60>
<H PROF HIGH>
<U X>
<E X>
<J X>
<I X>
<Z NARR IMAG>
<S SAMPLE X>


[^CHAUCER, GEOFFREY.
TEXT:  THE GENERAL PROLOGUE
TO THE CANTERBURY TALES.
THE RIVERSIDE CHAUCER.
THIRD EDITION.
GENERAL EDITOR L. D. BENSON.
BASED ON THE WORKS OF GEOFFREY CHAUCER,
EDITED BY F. N. ROBINSON.
BOSTON: HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY, 1987.
PP. 24.C2.89 - 35.C1.746       (SAMPLE 1)

CHAUCER, GEOFFREY.
TEXT:  THE WIFE OF BATH'S PROLOGUE.
Idem.
PP. 107.C2.193 - 109.C2.335    (SAMPLE 2)

CHAUCER, GEOFFREY.
TEXT:  THE SUMMONER'S TALE.
Idem.
PP. 133.C1.2036 - 135.C1.2175  (SAMPLE 3)

CHAUCER, GEOFFREY.
TEXT:  THE MERCHANT'S TALE.
Idem.
PP. 155.C1.1311 - 156.C2.1450  (SAMPLE 4)^]

<S SAMPLE 1>
<P 24.C2>
Embrouded was he, as it were a meede 
Al ful of fresshe floures, whyte and reede. 
Syngynge he was, or floytynge, al the day;
He was as fressh as is the month of May.  
<P 25.C1>
Short was his gowne, with sleves longe and wyde. 
Wel koude he sitte on hors and faire ryde.
He koude songes make and wel endite, 
Juste and eek daunce, and weel purtreye and write.  
So hoote he lovede that by nyghtertale
He sleep namoore than dooth a nyghtyngale.
Curteis he was, lowely, and servysable,
And carf biforn his fader at the table.
   A YEMAN hadde he and servantz namo
At that tyme, for hym liste ride so, 
And he was clad in cote and hood of grene.
A sheef of pecok arwes, bright and kene,  
Under his belt he bar ful thriftily 
(Wel koude he dresse his takel yemanly;
His arwes drouped noght with fetheres lowe), 
And in his hand he baar a myghty bowe. 
A not heed hadde he, with a broun visage. 
Of wodecraft wel koude he al the usage.
Upon his arm he baar a gay bracer,
And by his syde a swerd and a bokeler, 
And on that oother syde a gay daggere
Harneised wel and sharp as point of spere;
A Cristopher on his brest of silver sheene. 
An horn he bar, the bawdryk was of grene; 
A forster was he, soothly, as I gesse. 
   Ther was also a Nonne, a PRIORESSE,  
That of hir smylyng was ful symple and coy; 
Hire gretteste ooth was but by Seinte Loy;
And she was cleped madame Eglentyne. 
Ful weel she soong the service dyvyne, 
Entuned in hir nose ful semely; 
<P 25.C2>
And Frenssh she spak ful faire and fetisly, 
After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe,
For Frenssh of Parys was to hire unknowe. 
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 carie a morsel and wel kepe 
That no drope ne fille upon hire brest.
In curteisie was set ful muchel hir lest. 
Hir over-lippe wyped she so clene 
That in hir coppe ther was no ferthyng sene 
Of grece, whan she dronken hadde hir draughte. 
Ful semely after hir mete she raughte. 
And sikerly 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 reverence.
But for to speken of hire conscience, 
She was so charitable and so pitous  
She wolde wepe, if that she saugh a mous  
Kaught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde. 
Of smale houndes hadde she that she fedde 
With rosted flessh, or milk and wastel-breed.  
But soore wepte she if oon of hem were deed,
Or if men smoot it with a yerde smerte;
And al was conscience and tendre herte.
Ful semyly hir wympul pynched was,
Hir nose tretys, hir eyen greye as glas,  
Hir mouth ful smal, and therto softe and reed. 
<P 26.C1>
But sikerly she hadde a fair forheed;
It was almoost a spanne brood, I trowe;
For, hardily, she was nat undergrowe.
Ful 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 theron 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 lovede venerie,
A manly man, to been an abbot able.  
Ful many a deyntee hors hadde he in stable, 
And whan he rood, 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 or of Seint Beneit -
By cause that it was old and somdel 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 ben nat hooly men,
Ne that a monk, whan he is recchelees, 
Is likned til a fissh that is waterlees -  
This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloystre.
But thilke text heeld he nat worth an oystre;  
<P 26.C2>
And I seyde his opinion was good. 
What sholde he studie and make hymselven wood, 
Upon a book in cloystre alwey to poure,
Or swynken with his handes, and laboure,  
As Austyn bit? How shal the world be served?  
Lat Austyn have his swynk to hym reserved!
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 sleves purfiled at the hond
With grys, and that the fyneste of a lond;
And, for to festne his hood under his chyn, 
He hadde of gold ywroght a ful curious pyn; 
A love-knotte in the gretter ende ther was. 
His heed was balled, that shoon as any glas,
And eek his face, as he hadde been enoynt.
He was a lord ful fat and in good poynt;  
His eyen stepe, and rollynge in his heed, 
That stemed as a forneys of a leed;  
His bootes souple, his hors in greet estaat.
Now certeinly he was a fair prelaat; 
He was nat pale as a forpyned goost. 
A fat swan loved he best of any roost. 
His palfrey was as broun as is a berye.
   A FRERE ther was, a wantowne and a merye, 
A lymytour, a ful solempne man. 
In alle the ordres foure is noon that kan 
So muchel of daliaunce and fair langage.  
He hadde maad ful many a mariage
Of yonge wommen at his owene cost.
Unto his ordre he was a noble post.  
<P 27.C1>
Ful wel biloved and famulier was he  
With frankeleyns over al in his contree,  
And eek with worthy wommen of the toun;
For he hadde power of confessioun,
As seyde hymself, moore than a curat,
For of his ordre he was licenciat.
Ful swetely herde he confessioun, 
And plesaunt was his absolucioun: 
He was an esy man to yeve penaunce,  
Ther as he wiste to have a good pitaunce. 
For unto a povre ordre for to yive
Is signe that a man is wel yshryve;  
For if he yaf, he dorste make avaunt,
He wiste that a man was repentaunt;  
For many a man so hard is of his herte,
He may nat wepe, althogh hym soore smerte. 
Therfore in stede of wepynge and preyeres
Men moote yeve silver to the povre freres.
His typet was ay farsed ful of knyves
And pynnes, for to yeven faire wyves.
And certeinly he hadde a murye note:
Wel koude he synge and pleyen on a rote;
Of yeddynges he baar outrely the pris.
His nekke whit was as the flour-de-lys;
Therto he strong was as a champioun.
He knew the tavernes wel in every toun
And everich hostiler and tappestere
Bet than a lazar or a beggestere,
For unto swich a worthy man as he
Acorded nat, as by his facultee,
To have with sike lazars aqueyntaunce.
It is nat honest; it may nat avaunce,
For to deelen with no swich poraille,
But al with riche and selleres of vitaille.
<P 27.C2>
And over al, ther as profit sholde arise,
Curteis he was and lowely of servyse;
Ther nas no man nowher so vertuous.
He was the beste beggere in his hous;
[{And yaf a certeyn ferme for the graunt;
Noon of his bretheren cam ther in his haunt;{]
For thogh a wydwe hadde noght a sho,
So plesaunt was his (\"In principio,"\)
Yet wolde he have a ferthyng, er he wente.
His purchas was wel bettre than his rente. 
And rage he koude, as it were right a whelp. 
In love-dayes ther koude he muchel help,
For ther he was nat lyk a cloysterer  
With a thredbare cope, as is a povre scoler, 
But he was lyk a maister or a pope.
Of double worstede was his semycope,  
That rounded as a belle out of the presse. 
Somwhat he lipsed, for his wantownesse, 
To make his Englissh sweete upon his tonge;
And in his harpyng, whan that he hadde songe,
His eyen twynkled in his heed aryght 
As doon the sterres in the frosty nyght.
This worthy lymytour was cleped Huberd. 
   A MARCHANT was ther with a forked berd, 
In mottelee, and hye on horse he sat; 
Upon his heed a Flaundryssh bever hat,
His bootes clasped faire and fetisly. 
His resons he spak ful solempnely, 
Sownynge alwey th'encrees of his wynnyng.  
He wolde the see were kept for any thyng
Bitwixe Middelburgh and Orewelle.
<P 28.C1>
Wel koude he in eschaunge sheeldes selle.  
This worthy man ful wel his wit bisette:
Ther wiste no wight that he was in dette,  
So estatly was he of his governaunce  
With his bargaynes and with his chevyssaunce.
For sothe he was a worthy man with alle,
But, sooth to seyn, I noot how men hym calle.
   A CLERK ther was of Oxenford also, 
That unto logyk hadde longe ygo.
As leene was his hors as is a rake,
And he nas nat right fat, I undertake,
But looked holwe, and therto sobrely. 
Ful thredbare was his overeste courtepy,
For he hadde geten hym yet no benefice, 
Ne was so worldly for to have office. 
For hym was levere have at his beddes heed 
Twenty bookes, clad in blak or reed,  
Of Aristotle and his philosophie
Than robes riche, or fithele, or gay sautrie.
But al be that he was a philosophre,  
Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre; 
But al that he myghte of his freendes hente, 
On bookes and on lernynge he it spente, 
And bisily gan for the soules preye
Of hem that yaf hym wherwith to scoleye.
Of studie took he moost cure and moost heede.
Noght o word spak he moore than was neede, 
And that was seyd in forme and reverence,  
And short and quyk and ful of hy sentence; 
Sownynge in moral vertu was his speche, 
And gladly wolde he lerne and gladly teche.
<P 28.C2>
   A SERGEANT OF THE LAWE, war and wys,  
That often hadde been at the Parvys,  
Ther was also, ful riche of excellence. 
Discreet he was and of greet reverence - 
He semed swich, his wordes weren so wise.  
Justice he was ful often in assise,
By patente and by pleyn commissioun.  
For his science and for his heigh renoun,  
Of fees and robes hadde he many oon.  
So greet a purchasour was nowher noon:
Al was fee symple to hym in effect;
His purchasyng myghte nat been infect.
Nowher so bisy a man as he ther nas,  
And yet he semed bisier than he was.  
In termes hadde he caas and doomes alle 
That from the tyme of kyng William were falle.  
Therto he koude endite and make a thyng,  
Ther koude no wight pynche at his writyng; 
And every statut koude he pleyn by rote.
He rood but hoomly in a medlee cote,
Girt with a ceint of silk, with barres smale;
Of his array telle I no lenger tale.
[^117 LINES OMITTED^]
<P 30.C2>
   A good WIF was ther OF biside BATHE, 
But she was somdel deef, and that was scathe.  
Of clooth-makyng she hadde swich an haunt
She passed hem of Ypres and of Gaunt.
In al the parisshe wif ne was ther noon
That to the offrynge bifore hire sholde goon;  
And if ther dide, certeyn so wrooth was she
That she was out of alle charitee.
Hir coverchiefs ful fyne weren of ground; 
I dorste swere they weyeden ten pound
That on a Sonday weren upon hir heed.
Hir hosen weren of fyn scarlet reed, 
Ful streite yteyd, and shoes ful moyste and newe.
Boold was hir face, and fair, and reed of hewe.
She was a worthy womman al hir lyve: 
Housbondes at chirche dore she hadde fyve,
Withouten oother compaignye in youthe - 
<P 31.C1>
But therof nedeth nat to speke as nowthe. 
And thries hadde she been at Jerusalem;
She hadde passed many a straunge strem;
At Rome she hadde been, and at Boloigne,  
In Galice at Seint-Jame, and at Coloigne. 
She koude muchel of wandrynge by the weye.
Gat-tothed was she, soothly for to seye.  
Upon an amblere esily she sat,  
Ywympled wel, and on hir heed an hat 
As brood as is a bokeler or a targe; 
A foot-mantel aboute hir hipes large,
And on hir feet a paire of spores sharpe. 
In felaweshipe wel koude she laughe and carpe. 
Of remedies of love she knew per chaunce, 
For she koude of that art the olde daunce.
   A good man was ther of religioun, 
And was a povre PERSOUN OF A TOUN,
But riche he was of hooly thoght and werk.
He was also a lerned man, a clerk,
That Cristes gospel trewely wolde preche; 
His parisshens devoutly wolde he teche.
Benygne he was, and wonder diligent, 
And in adversitee ful pacient,  
And swich he was ypreved ofte sithes.
Ful looth were hym to cursen for his tithes,
But rather wolde he yeven, out of doute,  
Unto his povre parisshens aboute
Of his offryng and eek of his substaunce. 
He koude in litel thyng have suffisaunce. 
Wyd was his parisshe, and houses fer asonder,  
But he ne lefte nat, for reyn ne thonder, 
In siknesse nor in meschief to visite
<P 31.C2>
The ferreste in his parisshe, muche and lite,  
Upon his feet, and in his hand a staf. 
This noble ensample to his sheep he yaf,  
That first he wroghte, and afterward he taughte. 
Out of the gospel he tho wordes caughte,  
And this figure he added eek therto, 
That if gold ruste, what shal iren do? 
For if a preest be foul, on whom we truste, 
No wonder is a lewed man to ruste;
And shame it is, if a prest take keep, 
A shiten shepherde and a clene sheep.
Wel oghte a preest ensample for to yive,  
By his clennesse, how that his sheep sholde lyve.
He sette nat his benefice to hyre 
And leet his sheep encombred in the myre  
And ran to Londoun unto Seinte Poules
To seken hym a chaunterie for soules,
Or with a bretherhed to been withholde;
But dwelte at hoom, and kepte wel his folde,
So that the wolf ne made it nat myscarie; 
He was a shepherde and noght a mercenarie.
And though he hooly were and vertuous, 
He was to synful men nat despitous,  
Ne of his speche daungerous ne digne,
But in his techyng discreet and benygne.  
To drawen folk to hevene by fairnesse, 
By good ensample, this was his bisynesse. 
But it were any persone obstinat, 
What so he were, of heigh or lough estat, 
Hym wolde he snybben sharply for the nonys. 
A bettre preest i trowe that nowher noon ys.
He waited after no pompe and reverence,
Ne maked him a spiced conscience, 
<P 32.C1>
But Cristes loore and his apostles twelve 
He taughte; but first he folwed it hymselve.
   With hym ther was a PLOWMAN, was his brother,  
That hadde ylad of dong ful many a fother;
A trewe swynkere and a good was he,  
Lyvynge in pees and parfit charitee. 
God loved he best with al his hoole herte 
At alle tymes, thogh him gamed or smerte, 
And thanne his neighebor right as hymselve. 
He wolde thresshe, and therto dyke and delve,  
For Cristes sake, for every povre wight,  
Withouten hire, if it lay in his myght.
His tithes payde he ful faire and wel, 
Bothe of his propre swynk and his catel.  
In a tabard he rood upon a mere.
   Ther was also a REVE, and a MILLERE, 
A SOMNOUR, and a PARDONER also, 
A MAUNCIPLE, and myself - ther were namo. 
   The MILLERE was a stout carl for the nones; 
Ful byg 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 thikke knarre; 
Ther was no dore that he nolde heve 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 hade 
A werte, and theron stood a toft of herys,
Reed as the brustles of a sowes erys;
His nosethirles blake were and wyde. 
A swerd and bokeler bar he by his syde.
<P 32.C2>
His mouth as greet was as a greet forneys.
He was a janglere and a goliardeys,  
And that was moost of synne and harlotries. 
Wel koude he stelen corn and tollen thries; 
And yet he hadde a thombe of gold, pardee.
A whit cote and a blew hood wered he.
A baggepipe wel koude he blowe and sowne, 
And therwithal he broghte us out of towne.
   A gentil MAUNCIPLE was ther of a temple,  
Of which achatours myghte take exemple 
For to be wise in byynge of vitaille;
For wheither that he payde or took by taille,  
Algate he wayted so in his achaat 
That he was ay biforn and in good staat.  
Now is nat that of God a ful fair grace
That swich a lewed mannes wit shal pace
The wisdom of an heep of lerned men? 
Of maistres hadde he mo than thries ten,  
That weren of lawe expert and curious, 
Of which ther were a duszeyne in that hous
Worthy to been stywardes of rente and lond
Of any lord that is in Engelond,
To make hym lyve by his propre good  
In honour dettelees (but if he were wood),
Or lyve as scarsly as hym list desire; 
And able for to helpen al a shire 
In any caas that myghte falle or happe.
And yet this Manciple sette hir aller cappe.  
[^84 LINES OMITTED^]
<P 34.C1> 
   With hym ther rood a gentil PARDONER   
Of Rouncivale, his freend and his compeer, 
That streight was comen fro the court of Rome. 
Ful loude he soong "Com hider, love, to me!" 
This Somonour bar to hym a stif burdoun;
Was nevere trompe of half so greet a soun. 
This Pardoner hadde heer 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 shuldres overspradde;  
But thynne it lay, by colpons oon and oon. 
But hood, for jolitee, wered he noon, 
For it was trussed up in his walet.
Hym thoughte he rood al of the newe jet;
Dischevelee, save his cappe, he rood al bare.  
<P 34.C2>
Swiche glarynge eyen hadde he as an hare.  
A vernycle hadde he sowed upon his cappe.  
His walet, biforn hym in his lappe,
Bretful of pardoun, comen from Rome al hoot.
A voys he hadde as smal as hath a goot. 
No berd hadde he, ne nevere sholde have;
As smothe it was as it were late shave. 
I trowe he were a geldyng or a mare.  
But of his craft, fro Berwyk into Ware 
Ne was ther swich another pardoner. 
For in his male he hadde a pilwe-beer,
Which that he seyde was Oure Lady veyl;
He seyde he hadde a gobet of the seyl 
That Seint Peter hadde, whan that he wente 
Upon the see, til Jhesu Crist hym hente.
He hadde a croys of latoun ful of stones,  
And in a glas he hadde pigges bones.  
But with thise relikes, whan that he fond  
A povre person dwellynge upon lond,
Upon a day he gat hym moore moneye 
Than that the person gat in monthes tweye; 
And thus, with feyned flaterye and japes,  
He made the person and the peple his apes. 
But trewely to tellen atte laste,
He was in chirche a noble ecclesiaste.
Wel koude he rede a lessoun or a storie,
But alderbest he song an offertorie;  
For wel he wiste, whan that song was songe,
He moste preche and wel affile his tonge
To wynne silver, as he ful wel koude; 
Therefore he song the murierly and loude.  
   Now have I toold you soothly, in a clause, 
Th'estaat, th'array, the nombre, and eek the cause  
<P 35.C1>
Why that assembled was this compaignye
In Southwerk at this gentil hostelrye 
That highte the Tabard, faste by the Belle.
But now is tyme to yow for to telle
How that we baren us that ilke nyght, 
Whan we were in that hostelrie alyght;
And after wol I telle of our viage 
And al the remenaunt of oure pilgrimage.
But first I pray yow, of youre curteisye,  
That ye n'arette it nat my vileynye,  
Thogh that I pleynly speke in this mateere,
To telle yow hir wordes and hir cheere, 
Ne thogh I speke hir wordes proprely. 
For this ye knowen al so wel as I: 
Whoso shal telle a tale after a man,  
He moot reherce as ny as evere he kan 
Everich a word, if it be in his charge, 
Al speke he never so rudeliche and large,  
Or ellis he moot telle his tale untrewe,
Or feyne thyng, or fynde wordes newe. 
He may nat spare, althogh he were his brother; 
He moot as wel seye o word as another.
Crist spak hymself ful brode in hooly writ,
And wel ye woot no vileynye is it. 
Eek Plato seith, whoso that kan hym rede,
The wordes moote be cosyn to the dede.
Also I prey yow to foryeve it me,
Al have I nat set folk in hir degree
Heere in this tale, as that they sholde stonde.
My wit is short, ye may wel understonde.

<S SAMPLE 2>

<Q M3 NI FICT CTBATH>
<N CT BATH>
<A CHAUCER GEOFFREY>
<C M3>
<O 1350-1420>
<M 1350-1420>
<K X>
<D EML>
<V VERSE>
<T FICTION>
<G X>
<F X>
<W WRITTEN>
<X MALE>
<Y 40-60>
<H PROF HIGH>
<U X>
<E X>
<J X>
<I X>
<Z NARR IMAG>

<P 107.C2> 
   Now, sire, now wol I telle forth my tale. 
As evere moote I drynken wyn or ale, 
I shal seye sooth; tho housbondes that I hadde,
As thre of hem were goode, and two were badde. 
The thre were goode men, and riche, and olde;  
Unnethe myghte they the statut holde 
In which that they were bounden unto me.  
Ye woot wel what I meene of this, pardee! 
As help me God, I laughe whan I thynke 
How pitously a-nyght I made hem swynke!
And, by my fey, I tolde of it no stoor.
They had me yeven hir lond and hir tresoor; 
Me neded nat do lenger diligence
To wynne hir love, or doon hem reverence. 
They loved me so wel, by God above,  
That I ne tolde no deyntee of hir love!
A wys womman wol bisye hire evere in oon  
To gete hire love, ye, ther as she hath noon.  
<P 108.C1>
But sith I hadde hem hoolly in myn hond,  
And sith they hadde me yeven al hir lond, 
What sholde I taken keep hem for to plese,
But it were for my profit and myn ese? 
I sette hem so a-werke, by my fey,
That many a nyght they songen 'Weilawey!'  
The bacon was nat fet for hem, I trowe,
That som men han in Essex at Dunmowe.
I governed hem so wel, after my lawe,
That ech of hem ful blisful was and fawe  
To brynge me gaye thynges fro the fayre.  
They were ful glad whan I spak to hem faire,
For, God it woot, I chidde hem spitously. 
   Now herkneth hou I baar me proprely, 
Ye wise wyves, that kan understonde. 
Thus shulde ye speke and bere hem wrong on honde,
For half so boldely kan ther no man  
Swere and lyen, as a womman kan.
I sey nat this by wyves that been wyse,
But if it be whan they hem mysavyse. 
A wys wyf, if that she kan hir good, 
Shal beren hym on honde that the cow is wood,
And take witnesse of hir owene mayde 
Of hir assent. But herkneth how I sayde:  
   'Sire olde kaynard, is this thyn array? 
Why is my neighebores wyf so gay?
She is honoured over al ther she gooth;
I sitte at hoom; I have no thrifty clooth. 
What dostow at my neighebores hous?  
Is she so fair? Artow so amorous? 
What rowne ye with oure mayde? Benedicite!
Sire olde lecchour, lat thy japes be!
And if I have a gossib or a freend,  
Withouten gilt, thou chidest as a feend,  
If that I walke or pleye unto his hous!
Thou comest hoom as dronken as a mous, 
And prechest on thy bench, with yvel preef! 
Thou seist to me it is a greet meschief
<P 108.C2>
To wedde a povre womman, for costage;
And if that she be riche, of heigh parage,
Thanne seistow that it is a tormentrie 
To soffre hire pride and hire malencolie. 
And if that she be fair, thou verray knave, 
Thou seyst that every holour wol hire have; 
She may no while in chastitee abyde, 
That is assailled upon ech a syde.
   Thou seyst som folk desiren us for richesse,
Somme for oure shap, and somme for oure fairnesse,  
And som for she kan outher synge or daunce, 
And som for gentillesse and daliaunce; 
Som for hir handes and hir armes smale;
Thus goth al to the devel, by thy tale.
Thou seyst men may nat kepe a castel wal, 
It may so longe assailled been overal.
   And if that she be foul, thou seist that she
Coveiteth every man that she may se, 
For as a spanyel she wol on hym lepe,
Til that she fynde som man hire to chepe. 
Ne noon so grey goos gooth ther in the lake 
As, seistow, wol been withoute make. 
And seyst it is an hard thyng for to welde
A thyng that no man wole, his thankes, helde.  
Thus seistow, lorel, whan thow goost to bedde, 
And that no wys man nedeth for to wedde,  
Ne no man that entendeth unto hevene.
With wilde thonder-dynt and firy levene
Moote thy welked nekke be tobroke!
   Thow seyst that droppyng houses, and eek smoke,
And chidyng wyves maken men to flee  
Out of hir owene houses; a, benedicitee! 
What eyleth swich an old man for to chide?
   Thow seyst we wyves wol oure vices hide
Til we be fast, and thanne we wol hem shewe -   
Wel may that be a proverbe of a shrewe!
<P 109.C1>
   Thou seist that oxen, asses, hors, and houndes,
They been assayed at diverse stoundes; 
Bacyns, lavours, er that men hem bye,
Spoones and stooles, and al swich housbondrye, 
And so been pottes, clothes, and array;
But folk of wyves maken noon assay,  
Til they be wedded - olde dotard shrewe! -
And thanne, seistow, we wol oure vices shewe.  
   Thou seist also that it displeseth me
But if that thou wolt preyse my beautee,  
And but thou poure alwey upon my face, 
And clepe me "faire dame" in every place.
And but thou make a feeste on thilke day  
That I was born, and make me fressh and gay;
And but thou do to my norice honour, 
And to my chamberere withinne my bour, 
And to my fadres folk and his allyes -  
Thus seistow, olde barel-ful of lyes!
   And yet of oure apprentice Janekyn,  
For his crispe heer, shynynge as gold so fyn,  
And for he squiereth me bothe up and doun,
Yet hastow caught a fals suspecioun. 
I wol hym noght, thogh thou were deed tomorwe! 
   But tel me this: why hydestow, with sorwe,
They keyes of thy cheste awey fro me?
It is my good as wel as thyn, pardee!
What, wenestow make an ydiot of oure dame?
Now by that lord that called is Seint Jame, 
Thou shalt nat bothe, thogh that thou were wood, 
Be maister of my body and of my good;
That oon thou shalt forgo, maugree thyne yen.  
What helpith it of me to enquere or spyen?
I trowe thou woldest loke me in thy chiste! 
Thou sholdest seye, "Wyf, go wher thee liste;
Taak youre disport; I wol nat leve no talys.
I knowe yow for a trewe wyf, dame Alys."
We love no man that taketh kep or charge  
Wher that we goon; we wol ben at oure large.
<P 109.C2>
   Of alle men yblessed moot he be,
The wise astrologien, Daun Ptholome, 
That seith this proverbe in his Almageste: 
"Of alle men his wysdom is the hyeste 
That rekketh nevere who hath the world in honde." 
By this proverbe thou shalt understonde,  
Have thou ynogh, what thar thee recche or care 
How myrily that othere folkes fare?  
For, certeyn, olde dotard, by youre leve, 
Ye shul have queynte right ynogh at eve.  
He is to greet a nygard that wolde werne  
A man to lighte a candle at his lanterne;  
He shal have never the lasse light, pardee. 

<S SAMPLE 3>

<Q M3 NI FICT CTSUMM>
<N CT SUMMONER>
<A CHAUCER GEOFFREY>
<C M3>
<O 1350-1420>
<M 1350-1420>
<K X>
<D EML>
<V VERSE>
<T FICTION>
<G X>
<F X>
<W WRITTEN>
<X MALE>
<Y 40-60>
<H PROF HIGH>
<U X>
<E X>
<J X>
<I X>
<Z NARR IMAG>

<P 133.C1>
   And to the firste knyght right thus spak he,
'I dampned thee; thou most algate be deed.  
And thou also most nedes lese thyn heed, 
For thou art cause why thy felawe deyth.'
And to the thridde knyght right thus he seith, 
'Thou hast nat doon that I comanded thee.'  
And thus he dide doon sleen hem alle thre.  
   "Irous Cambises was eek dronkelewe,
And ay delited hym to been a shrewe.
And so bifel, a lord of his meynee 
<P 133.C2>
That loved vertuous moralitee 
Seyde on a day bitwix hem two right thus:
" 'A lord is lost, if he be vicius; 
And dronkenesse is eek a foul record
Of any man, and namely in a lord. 
Ther is ful many an eye and many an ere
Awaityng on a lord, and he noot where. 
For Goddes love, drynk moore attemprely! 
Wyn maketh man to lesen wrecchedly
His mynde and eek his lymes everichon.'
   " 'The revers shaltou se,' quod he, 'anon, 
And preve it by thyn owene experience, 
That wyn ne dooth to folk no swich offence. 
Ther is no wyn bireveth me my myght 
Of hand ne foot, ne of myne eyen sight.' 
And for despit he drank ful muchel moore,
An hondred part, than he hadde don bifoore; 
And right anon this irous, cursed wrecche
Leet this knyghtes sone bifore hym fecche,  
Comandynge hym he sholde bifore hym stonde. 
And sodeynly he took his bowe in honde,
And up the streng he pulled to his ere,
And with an arwe he slow the child right there.
'Now wheither have I a siker hand or noon?' 
Quod he; 'Is al my myght and mynde agon? 
Hath wyn bireved me myn eyen sight?'
What sholde I telle th'answere of the knyght?  
His sone was slayn; ther is namoore to seye.
Beth war, therfore, with lordes how ye pleye.  
Syngeth Placebo, and 'I shal, if I kan,' 
But if it be unto a povre man. 
To a povre man men sholde his vices telle,  
But nat to a lord, thogh he sholde go to helle.
   "Lo irous Cirus, thilke Percien,
How he destroyed the ryver of Gysen,
For that an hors of his was dreynt therinne,
Whan that he wente Babiloigne to wynne.
He made that the ryver was so smal
That wommen myghte wade it over al. 
Lo, what seyde he that so wel teche kan?'
'Ne be no felawe to an irous man, 
Ne with no wood man walke by the weye, 
Lest thee repente;' I wol no ferther seye.  
<P 134.C1>
   "Now, Thomas, leeve brother, lef thyn ire;
Thou shalt me fynde as just as is a squyre. 
Hoold nat the develes knyf ay at thyn herte - 
Thyn angre dooth thee al to soore smerte - 
But shewe to me al thy confessioun." 
"Nay," quod the sike man, "by Seint Symoun!
I have be shryven this day at my curat.
I have hym toold hoolly al myn estat;  
Nedeth namoore to speken of it," seith he,
"But if me list, of myn humylitee." 
   "Yif me thanne of thy gold, to make oure cloystre,"
Quod he, "for many a muscle and many an oystre, 
Whan othere men han ben ful wel at eyse, 
Hath been oure foode, our cloystre for to reyse. 
And yet, God woot, unnethe the fundement 
Parfourned is, ne of our pavement 
Nys nat a tyle yet withinne oure wones.
By God, we owen fourty pound for stones. 
   "Now help, Thomas, for hym that harwed helle!
For elles moste we oure bookes selle.  
And if yow lakke oure predicacioun, 
Thanne goth the world al to destruccioun.
For whoso wolde us fro this world bireve,
So God me save, Thomas, by youre leve, 
He wolde bireve out of this world the sonne.
For who kan teche and werchen as we konne?  
And that is nat of litel tyme," quod he,
"But syn Elye was, or Elise,  
Han freres been - that fynde I of record - 
In charitee, ythanked be oure Lord! 
Now Thomas, help, for seinte charitee!" 
And doun anon he sette hym on his knee.
  This sike man wax wel ny wood for ire; 
He wolde that the frere had been on-fire
With his false dissymulacioun. 
"Swich thyng as is in my possessioun,"
Quod he, "that may I yeve, and noon oother. 
<P 134.C2>
Ye sey me thus, how that I am youre brother?"
   "Ye, certes," quod the frere, "trusteth weel.  
I took oure dame oure lettre with oure seel."
   "Now wel," quod he, "and somwhat shal I yive
Unto youre hooly covent whil I lyve;
And in thyn hand thou shalt it have anon,
On this condicion, and oother noon, 
That thou departe it so, my deere brother,  
That every frere have also muche as oother. 
This shaltou swere on thy professioun, 
Withouten fraude or cavillacioun." 
   "I swere it," quod this frere, "by my feith!"
And therwithal his hand in his he leith, 
"Lo, heer my feith; in me shal be no lak." 
  "Now thanne, put in thyn hand doun by my bak,"
Seyde this man, "and grope wel bihynde. 
Bynethe my buttok there shaltow fynde  
A thyng that I have hyd in pryvetee."
  "A!" thoghte this frere, "That shal go with me!"
And doun his hand he launcheth to the clifte  
In hope for to fynde there a yifte. 
And whan this sike man felte this frere
Aboute his tuwel grope there and heere,
Amydde his hand he leet the frere a fart;
Ther nys no capul, drawynge in a cart, 
That myghte have lete a fart of swich a soun.  
   The frere up stirte as dooth a wood leoun -  
"A, false cherl," quod he, "for Goddes bones!  
This hastow for despit doon for the nones.  
Thou shalt abye this fart, if that I may!"
   His meynee, whiche that herden this affray, 
Cam lepynge in and chaced out the frere; 
And forth he gooth, with a ful angry cheere,
And fette his felawe, ther as lay his stoor.
He looked as it were a wilde boor;
He grynte with his teeth, so was he wrooth. 
A sturdy paas doun to the court he gooth,
Wher as ther woned a man of greet honour,
To whom that he was alwey confessour.  
<P 135.C1>
This worthy man was lord of that village.
This frere cam as he were in a rage,
Where as this lord sat etyng at his bord;
Unnethes myghte the frere speke a word,
Til atte laste he seyde, "God yow see!"  
   This lord gan looke, and seide, "Benedicitee!
What, frere John, what maner world is this? 
I se wel that som thyng ther is amys;  
Ye looken as the wode were ful of thevys.
Sit doun anon, and tel me what youre grief is, 
And it shal been amended, if I may." 

<S SAMPLE 4>

<Q M3 NI FICT CTMERCH>
<N CT MERCHANT>
<A CHAUCER GEOFFREY>
<C M3>
<O 1350-1420>
<M 1350-1420>
<K X>
<D EML>
<V VERSE>
<T FICTION>
<G X>
<F X>
<W WRITTEN>
<X MALE>
<Y 40-60>
<H PROF HIGH>
<U X>
<E X>
<J X>
<I X>
<Z NARR IMAG>

<P 155.C1>
   A wyf is Goddes yifte verraily; 
Alle othere manere yiftes hardily, 
As londes, rentes, pasture, or commune, 
Or moebles - alle been yiftes of Fortune,
That passen as a shadwe upon a wal.
But drede nat, if pleynly speke I shal: 
A wyf wol laste, and in thyn hous endure,  
Wel lenger than thee list, paraventure. 
   Mariage is a ful greet sacrement.  
He which that hath no wyf, I holde hym shent;
He lyveth helplees and al desolat - 
I speke of folk in seculer estaat. 
And herke why - I sey nat this for noght -
That womman is for mannes helpe ywroght.
The hye God, whan he hadde Adam maked,  
And saugh him al allone, bely-naked, 
God of his grete goodnesse seyde than,
"Lat us now make an helpe unto this man  
Lyk to hymself"; and thanne he made him Eve.  
Heere may ye se, and heerby may ye preve, 
That wyf is mannes helpe and his confort, 
His paradys terrestre, and his disport. 
So buxom and so vertuous is she,
They moste nedes lyve in unitee.
O flessh they been, and o fleesh, as I gesse,
Hath but oon herte, in wele and in distresse.
<P 155.C2>
   A wyf! a, Seinte Marie, benedicite!
How myghte a man han any adversitee  
That hath a wyf? Certes, I kan nat seye.
The blisse which that is bitwixe hem tweye  
Ther may no tonge telle, or herte thynke. 
If he be povre, she helpeth hym to swynke;
She kepeth his good, and wasteth never a deel; 
Al that hire housbonde lust, hire liketh weel; 
She seith nat ones "nay," whan he seith "ye." 
"Do this," seith he; "Al redy, sire," seith she. 
O blisful ordre of wedlok precious,
Thou art so murye, and eek so vertuous, 
And so commended and appreved eek  
That every man that halt hym worth a leek,
Upon his bare knees oughte al his lyf
Thanken his God that hym hath sent a wyf, 
Or elles preye to God hym for to sende  
A wyf to laste unto his lyves ende. 
For thanne his lyf is set in sikernesse;
He may nat be deceyved, as I gesse,
So that he werke after his wyves reed.  
Thanne may he boldely beren up his heed,
They been so trewe, and therwithal so wyse;  
For which, if thou wolt werken as the wyse,  
Do alwey so as wommen wol thee rede. 
   Lo, how that Jacob, as thise clerkes rede,
By good conseil of his mooder Rebekke,  
Boond the kydes skyn aboute his nekke,  
For which his fadres benyson he wan. 
   Lo Judith, as the storie eek telle kan,
By wys conseil she Goddes peple kepte,  
And slow hym Olofernus, whil he slepte. 
   Lo Abigayl, by good conseil how she 
Saved hir housbonde Nabal whan that he 
Sholde han be slayn; and looke, Ester also
By good conseil delyvered out of wo
The peple of God, and made hym Mardochee
Of Assuere enhaunced for to be. 
   Ther nys no thyng in gree superlatyf,
As seith Senek, above an humble wyf.
<P 156.C1>
   Suffre thy wyves tonge, as Catoun bit;  
She shal comande, and thou shalt suffren it, 
And yet she wole obeye of curteisye. 
A wyf is kepere of thyn housbondrye; 
Wel may the sike man biwaille and wepe, 
Ther as ther nys no wyf the hous to kepe. 
I warne thee, if wisely thou wolt wirche, 
Love wel thy wyf, as Crist loved his chirche.
If thou lovest thyself, thou lovest thy wyf; 
No man hateth his flessh, but in his lyf
He fostreth it, and therfore bidde I thee
Cherisse thy wyf, or thou shalt nevere thee. 
Housbonde and wyf, what so men jape or pleye,
Of worldly folk holden the siker weye;  
They been so knyt ther may noon harm bityde, 
And namely upon the wyves syde. 
For which this Januarie, of whom I tolde, 
Considered hath, inwith his dayes olde, 
The lusty lyf, the vertuous quyete,
That is in mariage hony-sweete, 
And for his freendes on a day he sente, 
To tellen hem th'effect of his entente. 
   With face sad his tale he hath hem toold. 
He seyde, "Freendes, I am hoor and oold, 
And almoost, God woot, on my pittes brynke;
Upon my soule somwhat moste I thynke.
I have my body folily despended;
Blessed be God that it shal been amended! 
For I wol be, certeyn, a wedded man, 
And that anoon in al the haste I kan.
Unto som mayde fair and tendre of age,  
I prey yow, shapeth for my mariage 
Al sodeynly, for I wol nat abyde;  
And I wol fonde t'espien, on my syde,
To whom I may be wedded hastily.
But forasmuche as ye been mo than I, 
Ye shullen rather swich a thyng espyen  
Than I, and where me best were to allyen. 
   But o thyng warne I yow, my freendes deere,  
I wol noon oold wyf han in no manere.
She shal nat passe twenty yeer, certayn;
Oold fissh and yong flessh wolde I have fayn.
<P 156.C2>
Bet is," quod he, "a pyk than a pykerel,  
And bet than old boef is the tendre veel. 
I wol no womman thritty yeer of age; 
It is but bene-straw and greet forage.  
And eek thise olde wydwes, God it woot, 
They konne so muchel craft on Wades boot, 
So muchel broken harm, whan that hem leste,  
That with hem sholde I nevere lyve in reste. 
For sondry scoles maken sotile clerkis; 
Womman of manye scoles half a clerk is. 
But certeynly, a yong thyng may men gye,
Right as men may warm wex with handes plye.  
Wherfore I sey yow pleynly, in a clause,
I wol noon oold wyf han right for this cause.
For if so were I hadde swich myschaunce
That I in hire ne koude han no plesaunce, 
Thanne sholde I lede my lyf in avoutrye
And go streight to the devel whan I dye. 
Ne children sholde I none upon hire geten;
Yet were me levere houndes had me eten
Than that myn heritage sholde falle
In straunge hand, and this I telle yow alle. 
I dote nat; I woot the cause why
Men sholde wedde, and forthermoore woot I
Ther speketh many a man of mariage 
That woot namoore of it than woot my page
For whiche causes man sholde take a wyf.
If he ne may nat lyven chaast his lyf,  
Take hym a wyf with greet devocioun, 
By cause of leveful procreacioun  
Of children, to th'onour of God above,  
And nat oonly for paramour or love;  



