The Prologue to the Tale of Sir Thopas
Folio 213r
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¶ This holy monk this Abbot hym mene I
His tonge out caughte / and took awey the greyn
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And he / yaf vp the goost ful softely
And whan this Abbot hadde this wonder seyn
His salte teerys / trikled doun as reyn
And gruf he fil / al flat vp on the grounde
And stille he lay / as he hadde leyn ybounde
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¶ The Couent eek / lay on the pauement
Wepynge / and heryen cristes moder deere
And after that they ryse / and forth been went
And toke awey this martir / from his beere
And in a toumbe / of Marbilstones cleere
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Enclosen they / this litel body swete
Ther he is now / god leue vs for to meete
¶ O yonge Hugħ of lyncoln / slayn also
With cursed Iewes / as it is notable
For it is / but alitel while ygo
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Preye eek for vs / we synful folk vnstable
That of his mercy / god so merciable
On vs / his grete mercy multiplie
For reuerence / of his moder Marie Amen ~
¶ Here endeth / the Prioresse tale ~
~ ¶ Bihoold the myrie talkyng of the hoost. to Chaucer ~
WHan seyd was al this myracle / euery man
As sobre was / that wonder was to se
Til that oure hoost iapen to bigan
And thanne at erst he looked vp on me .i. Chaucer
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And seyde thus / what man artow quod he
Thow lookest as thow woldest fynde an hare
For euere vp on the ground / I se thee stare