The Canon's Yeoman's Prologue
Folio 169r
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Thre strokes in þe nek he smot hir þo
The tormentor but for no maner chaunce /
He might nouȝt smyte hir faire necke a tuo /
And for þer was þat tyme an ordināuce
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That no man scholde do man such penaūce
The ferþe strok to smyten softe or sore /
This tormentour ne dorste do no more /
But half deed with nekke coruen þere
He laft hir lye and on his way he went /
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The cristen folk which þat about hir were /
Wiþ scheetes han þe blood ful faire y hent
Þre dayes lyued sche in þis torment
And neuer cessed hem þe faith to teche /
That sche hadde suffred hem sche gan to preche
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And hem sche ȝaf hir moebles and hir þing
And to þe pope vrban bytook hem þo /
And sayd I axe þis of heuen kyng
To haue respit þre dayes and no mo
To recomende to ȝow er þat I go
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These soules lo and þat I mighte do wirche
Heer of myn hous perpetuelly a chirche /
Seynt vrban wiþ his dekenes priuely
The body fette and buried it by nighte /
Among his oþer seyntes honestely
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Hir hous þe chircħ of seynt seint Cecily ȝit highte
Seynt vrban halwed it as he wel mighte
In which in to þis day in noble wyse
Men doon to crist and to his seint seruise /
And here bygynneth þe tale of þe Chanouns ȝeman ¶prologĂ«
Whan ended was þe lif of seynt Cecile
Er we fully had riden fyue myle
At Boughtoū vnder blee vs gan atake
A man þat cloþed was in cloþes blake
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And vnder þat he had a whit surplice
His hakeney þat was a pomely grice
So swete þat it wonder was to se
It semed he hadde priked myles þre /