The Merchant's Tale
Folio 133r
1 of 32 folios
Tellen so moche sorwe as I now heere
Couþe telle of my wyfes cursednesse
No quod our ost ; marchaunt so god ȝow blesse
Sin ȝe so moche knowen of þat art
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Ful hertily tellith vs a part
Gladly quod he of myn oughne sore
For sory hert I telle may na more
Whilom þer was duellyng in lombardy
A worþy knigħt þat born was of pauy
In which he lyued in gret prosperite
And fourty ȝer . a wifles man was he
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And folwed ay his bodily delyt
On wōmen . ther was his appetyt
As doon þese fooles þat ben seculere
And whan þat he was passed fourty ȝere
Were it for holynesse or for dotage
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I can not say . but such a gret corrage
Hadde þis knigħt . to ben a weddid man
That day and nigħt he doþ al þat he can
Taspye wher þat he mighte weddid be .
Praying our lord to graunte him þat he
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Migħt oones knowen of þat blisful lif
Þat is bitwix an housbond and his wyf
And for to lyue vnder þat holy bond
With which god first . man to wōman bond
Noon oþer lif said he is worth a bene
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For wedlok is so holy and so clene
That in þis world it is a paradis
Thus sayd þis olde knight þat was so wys
And certeinly as soth as god is king
To take a wyf . is a glorious þing
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And namely whan a man is old and hoor
Than is a wyf þe fruyt of his tresor
Than schuld he take a ȝong wif and a fair
On which he migħt engendre him an hair
And lede his lyf in mirthe and in solace
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Wher as þese bachileres synge allas
Whan þay fynde eny aduersite