The Reeve's Tale
Folio 39v
4 of 11 folios
The more queynte knakkes that thei make
The more wil I stele whan that I take
In stede of flour I wol yeue hem bren
The grettest clerkes ne be nat wisest men
135
As whilom to the wolf thus spak the mare
Of al hir art counte I noght a tare
¶ Out at the dore he goth pryuely
Whan that he saugh his tyme softely .
He lokyth vp and doun til he hath founde
140
The clerkes hors ther as it stood y bounde
By hynde the Mille vnder a lef seƚƚ
And to the hors he goth him fair and wel
And strypeth of the bridell ryght anon
And whan the hors was lous he gynneth gon
145
Toward the fenne ther wilde mares renne
And forth wyth we hee thurgh thik and thurgh thynne
¶ This Miller goth ageyn no word he seide
But doth his note and wyth the Clerkes pleyde
Til that hir corn was fair and wel y grounde
150
And whan the Mele was sakked and y bounde
This Ioħn gooth out and fynt his hors away
And gan to crie harrow and weilaway
Our hors is lost aleyn for goddes banes
Step out thi feet come out man al at anes
155
Allas our wardeyn hath his palfrey lorn
This aleyn al forgat bothe mele and corn
Al was out of his mynde his husbondrye
What whilke wey is he gane he gan to crye
¶ The wyf cam lepyng Inward wyth a renne
160
She seide allas your hors goth to the fenne
Wyth wilde mares as fast as he may go
Vnthank come on his heed that bonde him so
And he that better sholde haue knyt the reyne
¶ Allas quod Ioħn Aleyn for cristes peyne
165
Ley doun thi swerd and I wol myn al swa
I is ful wyght god wat as is Ra .
Bi goddis hert he shal not scape vs bathe
Whi ne had thow put the capul in the lathe
Il hail aleyn bi god thow is a fonne