The Canterbury Tales THE FRERES TALE
Part 21
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LE The Prologe of the Freres Tale. This worthy lymytour, this noble frere, He made alwey a maner louryng chiere Upon the Somonour, but for honestee No vileyns word as yet to hym spak he. But atte laste he seyde unto the wyf, "Dame," quod he, "God yeve yow right good lyf! Ye han heer touched, also moot I thee, In scole-matere greet difficultee. Ye han seyd muche thyng right wel,
I seye. But dame, heere as we ryde by the weye Us nedeth nat to speken but of game, And lete auctoritees, on Goddes name, To prechyng and to scole eek of clergye. But if it lyke to this compaignye, I wol yow of a somonour telle a game. Pardee, ye may wel knowe bby the name That of a somonour may no good be sayd; I praye that noon of you be yvele apayd. A somonour is a renner up and doun With mandementz for fornicacioun, And is ybet at every townes ende." Oure Hoost tho spak, "A sire, ye sholde be hende And curteys, as a man of youre estaat. In compaignye we wol have no debaat. Telleth youre tale, and lat the Somonour be." "Nay," quod the Somonour, "lat hym seye to me What so hym list. Whan it comth to my lot, By God I shal hym quiten every grot. I shal hym tellen which a greet honour It is to be a flaterynge lymytour, And his office I shal hym teele, ywis." Oure Hoost answerde, "Pees, namoore of this!" And after this he seyde unto the Frere, "Tel forth youre tale, leeve maister deere."
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LE (How a Summoner, meeting a devil dressed as a yeoman, agrees to share gifts with him as a friend; and is himself consigned to the devil by a poor old woman. Then follow the Summoner's Prologue and Tale of an insult put by a goodman upon a greedy friar.)Canterbury Tales;
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Geoffrey Chaucer
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The Canterbury Tales EPILOGUE
Part 17 UE The wordes of the Hoost to the Phisicien and the Pardoner Oure Hooste gan to swere as he were wood; Harrow quod he, by nayles and by blood
The Canterbury Tales the Wyves tale of Bathe
Part 19 UE OF HE ES
The Canterbury Tales THE PERSOUNS TALE
Part 30 UE TO HE NS
The Canterbury Tales PROLOGUE
Whan that Aprille, with hise shoures soote, The droghte of March hath perced to the roote 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 heeth ...