The Summoner's Prologue
Folio 73v
1 of 2 folios
The leon sit in his awaite alway
To sle the Innocent yif that he may
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Disposeth ay your hertes to withstonde
The fende that yow wold make thral and bonde
He may not tempten yow ouer your myght
For crist wol be your champion and knyght
And preyeth that this sompnour him repente
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Of his misdede or that the feend him hente
Here endeth the freres tale .
Here bygynneth the prologe of the Sompnours tale
This sompnour in his stiroppes high he stod
Vpon this frere his hert was so wood
That lyke an aspen leef he quook for Ire
Lordynges quod he but o thyng I desire
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I yow beseke that of your curtesye
Syn ye han hard this fals lye
As suffreth me I may my tale telle
This frere bosteth that he knoweth helle
And god it wot that is litel wonder
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Freres and feendes ben but litel a sonder
For parde ye han herd ofte tyme telle
How that a frere vanysshed was to helle
In spirit oones by auysion
And as an angel lad him vp and doun
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To shewen him the peynes that there were
In al the place saugh he nat a frere
Of other folk he saw y now in wo
Vnto this aungel spak the frere tho
¶ Now syre quod he han freres such a gace
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That noon of hem shal come to this place
¶ Yis quod this aungel many a mylioun
And vn to Sathanas he lad him doun
And now hath sathanas shekyn his tayle
Bradder than of a Carrek is the sayle
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Holde vp thi tayle thow Sathanas quod he
Shew forth thin ers and lat the frere se