The Shipman's Tale
Folio 208r
5 of 13 folios
That ȝe me wol comaunde in eny wyse
It schal be doon rigħt as ȝe wil deuyse
O þing er þat ȝe gon if þat it may be
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I wolde preye ȝou for þe loue of me
An hundred frankes for a wyke or tweye
For certeyn bestes þat I moste beye
To store with a place þat is oures
God helpe me I wolde þat it were ȝoures
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I schal nougħt fayle suerly of my day
Nougħt for a þousand frankes a myle way
But lete þis þing be secre I ȝou preye
Ȝe schulle be payed wher þat I lyue or deye
And fare now wel myn owen cosyn dere
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Graunt mercy of ȝoure cost and of ȝoure chere
This noble marchaunt gentilly anon
Answerde and sayde O Cosyn daun Ioħn
Now sikerly þis is a smal requeste
My gold is ȝoures whan þat euer ȝou leste
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And nought oonly my gold but my chaffare
Tak what ȝou leste god schilde þat ȝe spare
But o þing is ȝe knowe it wel ynougħ
Of chapmen þat here monee is here plougħ
We may creaunce whiles we haue a name /
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But goldles for to be it is no game
Pay it aȝein whan it liþ in ȝour ese
After my migħt ful fayn wolde I ȝou plese
Þise hundred frankes he fette forþ anon
And pryuyly he took hit to daun Ioħn
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No wigħt in al þis world wist of þis lone
Sauyng þis marchaunt and daun Ioħn allone
Þey dranken and romed out to pleye
Til þat daun Ioħn rydeþ to his abbeye
Þe morne came and forþ þis marchaunt rydeþ
300
To Flaundres ward his prentys wel him gydeþ
Til he cam in to Bruges meryly
Now goþ þis marchaunt faste and bysyly