The Manciple's Prologue
Folio 246v
2 of 4 folios
Is þer no man for prayer ne for hyre
Thal wol awake our felawes al by hynde
A theef mighte ful lightly robbe and bynde
Se how he nappith se for goddes boones
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That he wol falle fro his hors at ones
Is þat a Cook of londou wiþ meschaunce /
Do him come forth he knoweth his penaunce /
For he schal telle a tale by my fay
Al þough it be nouȝt worþ a botel hay
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Awake þou Cook sit vp god ȝif þe sorwe
What eyleþ þe to slepe by þe morwe /
Hast þou had fleen al night or artow dronke
Or hastow with som quen al night I swonke
So þat þou maist not holden vp þyn heed
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This cook þat was pale and no þing reed
Sayd to our host so god my soule blesse
As þer is falle on me such heuynesse
Not I nouȝt why þat me were leuer slepe /
Than þe beste galoū wyn in Chepe /
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¶ Wel quod þe maunciple if þat I may doon ease /
To þe sir Cook and to no wiȝt displease /
Which þat her rydeþ in þis compaignye
And our host wolde of his curteisie
I wol as now excuse þe of þy tale
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For in good faith þi visage is ful pale
Þyn eyen daswen eek . also me þinkith
And wel I woot þy breth ful foule stynkith
That scheweþ eek þou art nougħt wel disposid
Of me certeyn þou schalt nouȝt ben I glosed
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Se how he ganith . lo þis dronken wight
As þough he wolde swolwe vs anoon rigħt
Hold clos þy mouth by þy fader kynne
The deuel of helle sette his foot þer Inne
Thy cursed breth effecte wil vs aƚƚ
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Fy stynkyng swyne foule mot þe falle
A . takiþ heed sires of þis lusty man
Now swete sir . wol ȝe ioust atte fan
Therto me þinkþ . ȝe beþ rigħt wel I schape