Extracts from The Canterbury Tales
 
A. The Prologue

Here Deginneth the book of the tales of Canterbury

Whan that Aprille with his shoures sote
The droghte of Marche hath perced to the rote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour:
Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heath
the tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-rohne,
And smale fowles maken melodye,
That slepen al the night with open yë,
(So priketh hem nature in hir corages):
Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages
(And palmers for to seken straunge strondes)
To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londes;
And specially, frorn every shires ende
Of Engelond, to Canterbury they wende,
The holy blistful nartir for to seke,
That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke.
Bifel that, in that seson on a day,
In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay
Redy to wenden on my pilgrimage
To Canterbury with fui devout corage,
At night was come in-to that hostelrye
Wel nyne and twenty in a companye,
Of sondry folk, by adventure y-faile
In felawshipe, and pilgrims were they alie,
That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde;
The chambres and the stables weren wyde,
And wel we weren esed atte beste.
And shortly, v/han the sonne v/as to reste,
So hadde I spoken with hen everichon,
What I was of hir felawshipe anon,
And made forward erly for to ryse,
To take our wey, ther as I yow devyse.
But natheles, whyl I nave tyne and space,
Er that I ferther in this tale pace,
Me thinketh it acordaunt to resoun,
To telle yow ai the condicioun
Of ech of hem, so as it semed me,
And whiche they weren, and of what degree;
And eek in what array that they were inne:
And at a knight than wol I first biginne
When April with his showers sweet with fruit
The drought of March has pierced unto the root
And bathed each vein with liquor that hás power
To generate therein and sire the flower;
When Zephyr also has, with his sweet breath,
Quickened again, in every holt and heath,
The tender shoots and buds, and the young sun
Into Ram one half his course has run,
And many little birds make melody
That sleep through all the night with open eye
(So Nature pricks them on to ramp and rage)-—
Then do folk long to go on pilgrimage
And palmers to go seeking out strange strands,
To distant shrines well know in sundry lands.
And specially from every shire's end
Of England they to Cantenbury wend,
The holy blessed martyr there to seek
Who helped then when they lay so’ill and weak.
Befell that, in that season, on a day
In Southwark, at the Tabard, as I lay
Ready to start upon my  pilgrimage
To  Canterbury,  full   of  devout  hormage,
There came at nightfall to that  hostelry
There were twenty nine
Some  nine  and   twenty   in  a company
Of  sundry  persons  who  had_ chanced   to  fall
In fellowship and  pilgrims were   they  all
That   toward  Canterbury   town  would   ride.
The rooms and stables spacious were and wide,
And well we there were eased, and of the best.
And briefly, when the sun had gone to rest,
So had  I spoken with them, every one,
That I was of their fellowship  anon,
And made  agreement   that we'd  early rise
To take the   road,   as  you  I  will   apprise.
But nonetheless, whilst  I   have   time  and space,
Before yet  farther  in this  tale  I  pace,
It seems  to me  accordant with  reason
To inform you of the state of every one
Of  all of  these,   as   i t  appeared   to me,
And who they were, and what was their degree,
And even how arrayed there at the inn;
And with a knight thus will I first begin.
 
B.   The   Knight

A knight there was, and he a worthy man,
Who from the moment that he first began
To ride abbut the world, loved chivalry,
Truth, honour, freedom and courtesy.
Full worthy was he  in  his liege – lord’s war,
And therein had  he ridden (none nore far)
As well  in   Christendom as heathenesse,
And honoured everywhere for worthiness.
At Alexandria, he when it was won;
Full oft  the table's roster  he'd  begun
Above all nation knights in Prussia.
In  Latvia  raided he,   and  in  Russia,
No   christencd  na.n   so  oft   of  his   dcgree.
In  far  Granada  at   the   siege   was  he
Of   Algcciras,   :uid   Jn   Bclimarie.
At Ayas uas he and at Satalye
When they were won; and on the Middle Sea
At nany a noble meeting chanced to be.
Of mortal battles he had fought fifteen;
And he'd fought for our faith at Tranissene
Three times in lists, and each tine slain his foe.
This self-same worthy knight had been also
At one time with the lord of Palatye
Against another heathen in Turkey:
And always won he sovereign fame for prize.
Though so illustrious, he was very wise
And bore himself as neekly as a maid.
He never yet had any vileness said,
In all his life, to whatsoever wight.
He was a truly perfect, gentle knight.
But now, to tell you all of his array.
His steeds were good, but yet he was not gay.
Of simple fustian wore he a jupon
Sadly discoloured by his habergeon;
For he had lately come from his voyage
And now was going on this pilggriimage.

C. The Merchant

There was a merchant with forked beard, and girt.
In motley gown, and high on horse he sat.
Upon his head a Flemish beaver hat;
His boots were fastened rather elegantly.
He spoke his notions out right pompously,
Stressing the times when he had won. not lost.
He would the sea were held at any cost
Across from Hiddleburgh to Orwell town
At  noney-changing  he   could  make   a  crown.
This worthy man  kept   all  his  wits well   set;
There  was  no   one   could  say he  was   in  debt,
So well  he  governed  all  his   trade  affairs
With  bargains   and with  borrowings  and with shares
Indeed,   he  was  a worthy man, withal,
But,   sooth   to say,   his  name   I   can't   recail.

D. The  Clerk

A  clerk   from  Oxford  was  with  us   also,
Who'd  turned  to  getting,  knowledge,   long  ago .
As  meagre was  his  horse   as   is   a  rake,
But  he   looked  hollow  and went   soberly.
Right   threadbare was  his  overcoat;   for he
Had  got  hirn  yet  no churchly  benefice,
Nor was   so  wordly  as  gain  office.
For he  would  rather have   at  his  bed's head
Some   twenty books,   all  bound   in  black  and  red,
Of Aristotle   and his  philosophy
Than  rich  rich  robes,   fiddle, or gay psaltery.
Yet,   and  for  all   he  was   a  philosophers
He  had but   little   gold within  his  coffer;
But   all   that  he  might  borrow   from  a  friend
On books   a.nd   learning  he  would swifly  spend,
And  then he'd pray  right busily  for  the   souls
Of  those  who  gave  him where withal   for  schools.
Of  study   took  the utmost   care   and heed,
Not  one  word  spoke  he  more   than was his  need;
And  that  was  said  in  fullest   reverence
And  short  and  quick  and  full   of  high  good  sense.
Pregnant   of  moral  virtue  v/as  his   speech;
And  gladly  would  he   learn  and  gladly   teach.

E. The Miller

The miller was a stout churl, be it known,
Hardy and big, of brawn and big of bone;
Which was well proved, fore when he went on lam
At wrestling, never failed he of the ram.
He was a chunky fellow, broad of build;
He' d heave a door fron hinges jf he willed_.
Or break it through, but running; with his head.
His beard, as any sow of fox, was red,
And broad it was as if it were a spade.
Upon the coping of his nose he had
A wart, and thereon stood a tuft of hairs,
Red as the bristles in an old sow's ears;
His nostrils they were black and very wide.
A sword and b u c k l e r bore he by his side.
His mouth was like a furnace door for size.
He was a jester and could poetize,
But mostly all of sin and ribaldries,
He could steal corn and full thrice charge his fees;
And yet he had a thumb of gold, begad.
A white coat and blue hood he wore, this lad.
A bagpipe he could blow well, be it known,
And with that same he brought us out of town.