The Wife of Bath's Tale
Folio 68v
11 of 11 folios
¶ Here bigynneth the tale / of the Wyf of Bathe ~
2IN tholde dayes / of the kyng Arthour
Of which that Britons / speken greet honour
Al was this land / fulfild of Fairye
The Elf queene / with hir ioly compaignye
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Daunced ful ofte / in many a grene mede
This was / the olde opynyou / as I rede
I speke / of many hundred yerys ago
But now kan no man / se none Elues mo
For now the grete charitee / and prayeres
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Of lymytours / and othere holy freres
That serchen / euery lond and euery streem
As thikke / as motes in the sonne beem
Blessynge halles / chambres / kichenes boures
Citees / Burghes / Castels / hye Toures
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Thropes / Bernes / Shipnes / Dayeryes
This maketh / þt ther been no fairyes
For ther as wont to walken was an Elf
Ther walketh now / the lymytour hym self
In vndermelys / and in morwenynges
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And seith his matyns / and his holy thynges
As he gooth / in his lymytacioun
Wommen / may go saufly vp and down
In euery bussh / or vnder euery tree
Ther is noon oother Incubus / but he
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And he ne wol doon hem / but dishonour
¶ And so bifel / that this kyng Arthour
Hadde in his hous / a lusty Bachiler
That on a day / cam ridyng fro Ryuer
And happed that allone / as he was born
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He say a mayde / walkynge hym biforn
Of which mayde / anoon maugree hir hed
By verray force / he rafte hir maydenhed
For which opperssioū / was swich clamour
And swich pursuyte / vn to the kyng Arthour
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That dampned was this knyght for to be deed
By cours of lawe / and sholde han lost his heed