Here the Host 'stynteth' Chaucer's Tale of Sir Thopas
Folio 206r
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And of ladys loue drewery
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Men speken of Romauns of pris
Of hornchild and of ypotis
Of ser libeaux and pleyn damor
But ser thopas bereþ þe flour
His goode steede he bistrood
And forth vpon his way he glood
As spark out of þe bronde
Vpon his crest he bar a tour
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And þer In stiked a lily flour
God schilde his corps fro schonde
And for he was a knyȝt auntrous
He nolde slepen in noon hous
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His brigħte helm was his wonger
And by him baytith his destrer
Of herbes fyne and goode /
Himself drank water of þe welle
As dede þe knight of pertinelle /
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So worþy vnder wede /
NO mor of þis for goddes dignite
Quod our hoste / for þou makest me
So wery of þy verrey lewednesse /
That also wisly god my soule blesse /
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Myn eeres aken for þy drasty speche /
Now such a rym þe deuel I byteche
This may wel be rym dogerel quoþ he
Why so quod I why wilt þou lette me
More of my tale þan anoþer man
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Syn þat it is þe beste rym þat I can
By god quod he for pleinly at o word
Þy drasty rymyng is not worþ a tord
Þou dost nought elles but despendist tyme
Sir at o word þou schalt no lenger ryme
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Let se wher þou canst telle ought in gest