The lord, the lady, and ech man, sauf the frere,
Sayde that Jankyn spak in his matiere
As wel as Euclide, or elles Phtolomé.
Touchand the cherl, thay sayde that subtilté
And high wyt made him speken as he spak;
He nas no fool, ne no demoniak.
And Jankyn hath i-wonne a newe goune;
My tale is don, we ben almost at toune.