Now by my faders soule that is ded,
But ye be mery, smiteth of my hed.
Hold up your hondes withouten more speche. 785
Our conseil was not longe for to seche:

Us thought it was not worth to make it wise,

And granted him withouten more avise,
And bad him say his verdit, as him leste.
Lordinges, (quod he) now herkeneth for the

beste;

But take it nat, I pray you, in disdain ;
This is the point, to speke it plat and plain,
That eche of you to shorten with youre way,
In this viage, shal tellen tales tway,

790

To Canterbury ward, I mene it so,
And homeward he shall tellen other two,
Of aventures that whilom han befalle.

795

And which of you that bereth him best of alle,
That is to sayn, that telleth in this cas

Tales of best sentence and most solas,

800

Shal have a souper at youre aller cost

Here in this place sitting by this post,

Whan that ye comen agen from Canterbury.
And for to maken you the more mery,

805

I wol myselven gladly with you ride,
Right at min owen cost, and be your gide.
And who that wol my jugement withsay,
Shal

pay for alle we spenden by the way. And if ye vouchesauf that it be so,

Telle me anon withouten wordes mo,

810

And I wol erly shapen me therfore.

This thing was granted, and our othes swore

With ful glad herte, and praiden him also,
That he wold vouchesauf for to don so,
And that he wolde ben our governour,

815

And of our tales juge and reportour,

And sette a souper at a certain pris ;

And we wol reuled ben at his devise,

In highe and lowe: and thus by on assent,

We ben accorded to his jugement.

820

And therupon the win was fette anon.

We dronken, and to reste wenten eche on,
Without any lenger tarying.

A-morwe whan the day began to spring,

Up rose our hoste, and was our aller cok. 825

And gaderd us togeder in a flok,

And forth we riden a litel more than pas,

Unto the watering of Seint Thomas :

And ther our hoste began his hors arest,

And saide: lordes, herkeneth if you lest.

830

Ye wete your forword, and I it record.

If even-song and morwe-song accord,
Let se now who shal telle the first tale.
As ever mote I drinken win or ale,
Who so is rebel to my jugement,

835

Shal pay for alle that by the way is spent.
Now draweth cutte, or that ye forther twinne.
He which that hath the shortest shal beginne.

Sire knight, (quod he) my maister and my lord,
Now draweth cutte, for that is min accord. 840
Cometh nere, (quod he) my lady prioresse,
And ye, sire clerk, let be your shamefastnesse,
Ne studieth nought, lay hand to, every man.

D d

Anon to drawen every wight began, And shortly for to tellen as it was,

Were it by aventure, or sort, or cas,

The sothe is this, the cutte felle on the knight,

Of which ful blith and glad was every wight;
And tell he must his tale as was reson,

By forword, and by composition,

As ye han herd; what nedeth wordes mo?
And whan this good man saw that it was so,
As he that wise was and obedient

845

850

855

To kepe his forword by his free assent,
He saide; sithen I shal begin this game,
What? welcome be the cutte a goddes name.
Now let us ride, and herkeneth what I say.

And with that word we riden forth our way;
And he began with right a mery chere
His tale anon, &c.

860

THE END OF THE PROLOGUE.

THE FLOURE AND THE LEAFE,

BY CHAUCER.

From the edition of Chaucer's Works in 1598, by Speght, in which the poem was first printed; compared with Speght's second edition in 1602, and with that of Urry.

THE ARGUMENT.

A Gentlewoman, out of an arbour, in a grove, seeth a great company of Knights and Ladies in a dance upon the green grass. The which being ended, they all kneel down, and do honour to the Daisie, some to the Flower, and some to the Leaf. Afterward this Gentlewoman learneth by one of these Ladies the meaning hereof, which is this They which honour the Flower, a thing fading with every blast, are such as look after beauty and worldly pleasure; but they that honour the Leaf, which abideth with the root notwithstanding the frosts and winter storms, are they which follow virtue and during qualities without regard of worldly respects.

:

WHEN that Phebus his chair of gold so hie Had whirled up the sterry sky aloft,

And in the Boole was entred certainly;

When shoures sweet of rain descended *soft,

Causing the ground fele times and oft

5

*Oft, by an apparent errour of the press, in the old editions, Urry, soft.

Up for to give many an wholsome aire:

And every plaine was clothed faire

With new greene, and maketh small floures

To springen here and there in field and in mede;

So very good and wholsome be the shoures,

10

That it renueth that was old and deede,

In winter time; and out of every seede

Springeth the hearbe, so that every wight
Of this season wexeth glad and light.

And I, so glad of the season swete, Was happed thus upon a certaine night, As I lay in my bed, sleepe ful unmete Was unto me; but why that I ne might

15

Rest, I ne wist: for there n'as earthly wight,

As I suppose, had more hearts ease

20

Then I; for I n'ad sicknesse nor disease.

Wherefore I mervaile greatly of myselfe,

That I so long withouten sleepe lay;
And up I rose three houres after twelfe,
About the springing of the day;
And on I put my geare and mine
And to a pleasaunt grove I gan passe,
Long er the bright sunne up risen was:

array,

25

In which were okes great, streight as a line, Under the which the grasse so fresh of hew Was newly sprong, and an eight foot or nine Every tree well fro his fellow grew,

30