PROLOGUE Here bygynneth the Book of the ta… Whan that Aprille, with hise shou… The droghte of March hath perced… And bathed every veyne in swich li…

THE PROLOGUE. By that the Manciple his tale had… The sunne from the south line was… So lowe, that it was not to my sig… Degrees nine-and-twenty as in heig…

When priestes failen in their saws… And lordes turne Godde’s laws Against the right; And lechery is holden as privy sol… And robbery as free purchase,

Thou ferse god of armes, Mars the… That in the frosty contre called… Within thy grisly temple ful of dr… Honoured art as patroun of that pl… With thy Bellona, Pallas, ful of…

And so bifel, whan comen was the t… Of Aperil, whan clothed is the me… With newe grene, of lusty Veer th… And swote smellen floures white an… In sondry wises shewed, as I rede…

WHEN said was this miracle, ever… As sober* was, that wonder was to… Till that our Host to japen* he b… And then *at erst* he looked upon… And saide thus; ‘What man art tho…

To yow, my purse, and to noon othe… Complayne I, for ye be my lady de… I am so sory, now that ye been lyg… For certes, but ye make me hevy ch… Me were as leef be layd upon my be…

Whan that Aprille with his shoure… The droghte of March hath perced… And bathed every veyne in swich li… Of which vertú engendred is the fl… Whan Zephirus eek with his swete…

Madame, for youre newefangelnesse, Many a servant have ye put out of… I take my leve of your unstedefast… For wel I woot, whil ye have live… Ye can not love ful half yeer in a…

Syn I fro love escaped am so fat, I nere thinke to ben in his prison… Syn I am fre, I count hym not a b… He may answere, and sey this and t… I do no fors, I speke ryght as I…

‘IN faith, Squier, thou hast thee… And gentilly; I praise well thy w… Quoth the Franklin; 'considering… So feelingly thou speak’st, Sir,… *As to my doom,* there is none tha…

Your yën two wol sle me soden… I may the beaute of hem not susten… So woundeth hit through-out my her… And but your word wol helen hastil… My hertes wounde, whyl that hit is…

Flee from the press, and dwell wit… Suffice thee thy good, though it b… For hoard hath hate, and climbing… Press hath envy, and weal is blent… Savour no more than thee behove sh…

The minister and norice* unto vice… Which that men call in English id… The porter at the gate is of delic… T’eschew, and by her contrar’ her… That is to say, by lawful business…

Incipit Prohemium Secundi Libri. Out of these blake wawes for to sa… O wind, O wind, the weder ginneth… For in this see the boot hath swic… Of my conning, that unnethe I it…