The Miller's Prologue
Folio 42r
2 of 3 folios
So þat vnneþe vpon his hors he sat
He wold auale nowþer hood ne hat
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Ne abyde no man for his curtesye
But in Pilates voys he gan to crye
And swor by armes and by blood and bones
I can a noble tale for þe noones
With which I wol now quyte þe knigħtes tale
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Oure hoost saugħ wel how dronke he was of ale
And seyde Robyn abyde my leue broþer
Som bettre man schal telle vs first anoþer
Abyd and let vs worken þriftyly
By goddes soule quod he þat wol nat I
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For I wol speke or elles go my way
Oure host answed / tel on a deuel way
Thou art a fool þy witt is ouercome /
¶ Now herkneþ qd þis Myller al and some
But first I make a protestacioū
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That I am dronke I knowe wel by my soun
And þerfore if pat I mys speke or seye
Wyte it þe ale of Southwerk I ȝou preye
For I wol telle a legende and a lyf
Bothe of a Carpent er and of his wyf
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How pat þe clerk haþ set þe wriȝtes cappe /
The reue answered and seyde stynt þi clappe /
Let be þy lewed drunken harlottrye
It is a synne and eek a greet folye
To apeyren eny man or him defame
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And eek to brynge wyues in ylle name
Thou mayst ynowȝ of oþer þinges seyn
This dronken Miller spak ful sone a geyn
And seyde leeue broþer Osewold
Who hath no wyf he is no Cokewold
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But I seye not þerfore pat þou art oon
Ther been ful goode wyues many oon
And euer a þousand goode agayns oon badde
That knowest þou wel þy self but if þou madde
Why art þou angry with my tale now /
I haue a wyf perde as wel as thow