The Summoner's Prologue
Folio 121r
1 of 2 folios
In aƚƚ þe place saugħ he nat a Frere
Of oþer folk he saugħ ynowe in woo
Vnto þis aungel spak þe frere þo
Now sire quod he han freres such a grace /
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That non of hem schal come to þis place
Ȝis quod þis aungel many a milioū
And vnto Sathanas he hadde him doun
And now haþ Sathanas saiþ he a taile
Bradder þan of þe Caryk is þe saile
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Hold vp þi tayl þou Satanas quod he /
Schew forþ þin ers and lat þe frere se /
Wher is þe neste of Freres in þis place
And er þat half a forlong wey of space
Right so as bees swermen out of an hyue
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Out of þe deueles ers þey gon to dryue
Twenty þousand freres on a route
And þoughte helle swarme al aboute
And camen aȝein as faste as þey mighte gon
And in his ers þey crepeden euerichon
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He clapte his tayl aȝein and lay stille /
This frere whan he loked hadde his fille
Vppon þis tormentes of þis sory place /
His spirit god restored of his grace /
Vnto his body aȝein and he awok
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But naþeles for feere ȝit he quok
So was þe deueles ars ay in his mynde
Þat is his heritage of verray kinde
God saue ȝow aƚƚ saue þis cursed frere /
My prologe wol I ende in þis manere /