He knew the tavernes wel in every toun.

His palfrey was as broun as is a berye.

A Frere ther was, a wantowne and a merye.

And theron heng a brooch of gold ful sheene, On which ther was first write a crowned A, And after Amor vincit omnia.

She wolde wepe, if that she saugh a mous Kaught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.

Ful weel she soong the service dyvyne, Entuned in hir nose ful semely; And Frenssh she spak ful faire and fetisly, After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe For Frenssh of Parys was to hir unknowe.

Curteis he was, lowely, and servysable, And carf biforn his fader at the table.

He was as fressh as is the month of May.

He koude songes make and wel endyte.

And smale foweles maken melodye, That slepen al the nyght with open yë, (So priketh hem nature in hit corages); Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages.