cloysterer,
With a thredbare cope as a pore scolér,
But he was like a maister or a pope.
Of double worsted was his semy-cope,
That round was, as a belle, out of the presse.
Somwhat he lipsed, for his wantounesse,
To make his Englissh swete upon his tunge;
And in his harpyng, when that he hadde sunge,
His eyen twynkled in his hed aright,
As do the sterres in the frosty night.
This worthi prechour was y-called Huberd.

A Marchaunt was ther with a forked berd,
In motteleye, and high on horse he sat,
Uppon his hed a Flaundrish bever hat;
His botes buckled faire and properly.
His resons spak he ful solemnely,
Touching alway the encrease of his wynnyngs.
He wolde the see were guarded for his thinges
Betwixe Middulburgh and Orewelle.
Wel coude he in eschange sheeldes selle.
This worthi man ful wel his wittes sette;
Ther wiste no man that he was in dette,
So éstately was he of governaunce,
With his bargayns, and with his sufficience.
For sothe he was a worthi man withalle,
I know not, sooth to say, what men him calle.

A Clerk ther was of Oxenford also,
That unto logik had long tyme i-go.
As lene was his hors as is a rake,
And he was not right fat, I undertake;
But lokede hollow, and therto soberly.
Ful thredbare was his overest cloke to see,
For he hadde nought geten him a benefice,
Nor was so worldly to have high office.
For he wold rather have at his beddes hed
Twenty bookes, clothed in blak and red,
Of Aristotil, and his philosophie,
Then robes riche, or fiddle, or psaltery.
But although that he were a philosóphre,
Yet had he but a litul gold in cofre;
But al that he might gete, and his frendes sent,
On bookes and his lernyng he it spent,
And busily gan for the soules pray
Of them that gaf him money to scolay.
Of studie tooke he most cure and most heede.
Not one word spak he more than was need;
Al that he spak it was of heye prudence,
And short, and quyk, and ful of gret sentence.
Sowndynge in moral virtu was his speche,
And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.

A Sergeant of Lawe, wys and war,
That often hadde ben wher lawyers are,
Ther was also, ful riche of excellence.
Discret he was, and of gret reverence
He semèd such, his wordes were so wise.
Justice he was ful often in assise,
By patent, and by pleyn commissioún;
For his science, and for his high renoun,
Of fees and robes had he many a one.
So gret a lawyer was there nowher noon.
Al was fee symple to him in effecte,
His word of law might never be suspecte.
Nowher so busy a man in eny case,
And yet he semèd busier than he was.
In termes of lawe had he the judgementes al,
That from the tymes of kyng Will were falle.
Thereto he coude endite, and make a thing,
Ther coude no man blame aught of his writyng.
And every statute coude he pleyn by rote.
He rode but hoomly in a medly cote,
Girt with a girdle of silk, with barres smale;
Of his array telle I no lenger tale.

A Frankeleyn ther was in our companye
White was his beard, as is the dayesye.
Of his complexioun he was sangwyn.
Wel loved he in the morn a sop of wyn.
To lyven in delite he loved allone,
For he was Epicurus owne son,
That held opynyoun that pleyn delite
Was verrily felicitee perfýt.
An householder, and that a gret, was he;
Seynt Julian he was in his countree.
His bred, his ale, was alway best of al;
His store of wyn was known in special.
Withoute bake mete never was his hous,
Of flessh and fissh, and that so plentyous,
It snowèd in his hous of mete and drynk,
And alle deyntees that men coude thynk.
After the sondry sesouns of the yeer,
He chaungèd them at mete and at soper.
Ful many a fat partrich had he in mewe,
And many a bream and many a luce in stewe.
Wo was his cook, unless his sauce were
Poynant and sharp, and redy al his gear.
His table dormant in his halle alway
Stood redy covered al the longe day.
At sessions there was he lord and sire.
Ful ofte tyme he was knight of the shire.
A dagger and a wallet al of silk
Heng at his gerdul, white as morning mylk.
A shirreve and a counter hadde he ben,
Was nowher such a worthi Frankeleyn.

An Haberdassher and a Carpenter,
A Webber, a Dyer, and a Tapicer,
Were with us eek, clothed in one lyveree,
Of a solemne and gret fraternitee.
Ful fressh and newe their gear y-trimmèd was;
Their knyfes were y-sette nat with bras,
But al with silver wrought ful clene and faire,
Their gurdles and their pouches every where.
Wel semèd eche of them a fair burgeys,
To sitten in a gildehalle on the dais.
Every man for the wisdom that he can,
Was fitted for to be an alderman.
For money hadde they inough, and rente,
And eek their wyfes wolde it wel assente;
And else certeyn had they ben to blame.
It is right fair for to be clept madame.
And for to go to churches al byfore,
And have a mantel roially i-bore.