The Prologue
When said was this mirácle, every man
As sober was, that wonder was to see,
Till that our Host to japen he began,
And then at erst he looked upon me,
And saidë thus; “What man art thou?” quoth he;
“Thou lookest as thou wouldest find an hare,
For ever on the ground I see thee stare.
“Approachë near, and look up merrily.
Now ware you, Sirs, and let this man have place.
He in the waist is shapen as well as I;
This were a puppet in an arm t’ embrace
For any woman small and fair of face.
He seemeth elvish by his countenánce,
For unto no wight doth he dalliánce.
“Say now somewhat, since other folk have said;
Tell us a tale of mirth, and that anon.”
“Hostë,” quoth I, “be not evil apaid,
For other talë certes can I none,
But of a rhyme I learned yore agone.”
“Yea, that is good,” quoth he; “now shall we hear
Some dainty thing, me thinketh by thy cheer.”