The Manciple's Prologue
Folio 107v
2 of 4 folios
Xxxt wole awake / oure felawe al bihynde
X theef myghte hym / ful lightly robbe and bynde
Se how he nappeth / se how for Cokkes bones
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That he wol falle / from his hors atones
Is that a Cook of londoū / with meschaūce
Do hym come forth / he knoweth his penaūce
For he shal telle a tale / by my fey
Al thogh / it be nat worth a botel hey
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Awake thow Cook quod he / god yeue thee sorwe
What eyleth thee / to slepe by the morwe
Hastow had fleen al nyght or artow dronke
Or hastow wt som quene / al nyght yswonke
So / that thow mayst nat holden vp thyn heed
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¶ This Cook þt was ful pale / and no thyng reed
Seyde to oure hoost so god my soule blesse
As ther is / falle / on me swich heuynesse
Noot I nat why / þt me were leuere slepe
Than / the beste galoū wyn in Chepe
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¶ Wel quod the Manciple / if it may don ese
To thee ser Cook and to no wight displese
Which þt here rideth / in this compaignye
And þt oure hoost wole of his curteisye
I wole as now / excuse thee of thy tale
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For in good feith / thy visage is ful pale
Thyne eyen daswen eek as þt me thynketh
And wel I woot thy breth ful soure stynketh
That sheweth wel / thow art nat wel disposed
Of me certeyn / thow shalt nat ben yglosed
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Se how he ganeth / lo this dronken wight
As though he wolde / swolwe vs anon right
Hoold cloos thy mouth / man by thy fader kyn
The deuel of helle / sette his foot ther yn
Thy cursed breeth / infecte wol vs alle
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Fy stynkynge swyn / fy / foule mote thee falle
A taketh hede sires / of this lusty man
Now swete sire / wol ye Iusten atte Fan
Ther to me thynketh / ye ben wel yshape
I trowe / þt ye dronken han wyn ape
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And that is / whan men pleyen wt a straw
And with his speche / the Cook wax wroth & wraw