Four Fragments from the Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer

Whan that Aprille with iris shoures soote 
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote, 
And bathed every veyne in swich licour 
Of which venu engendred is the flour; 
Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth 
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth 
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne 
Hath in the Ram his halve cours yronne; 
And smale foweles maken melodye, 
That slepen al the nyght with open ye 
(So priketh hern nature in hir corages); . . . 
Bifil that in that seson on a day, 
In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay, 
Redy to wenden on my pilgrymage 
To Caunterbury with ful devout corage, 
At nyght was come into that hostelrye 
Wel nyne and twenty in a compaignye 
Of sondry folk, by aventure yfalle 
In felaweshipe, and pilgrimmes were they alle, 
That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde . . . . 
And shortly, whan the sonne was to reste, 
So hadde I spoken with hem everichon, 
That I was of hir felaweshipe anon, . . . . 
But . . er that I ferther in this tale pace, 
Me thynketh it acordaunt to resoun 
To telle yow al the condicioun 
Of ech of hem,.... 
And at a knyght than wol I first bigynne. 

A Knyght ther was, and that a worthy man, 
That fro the tyme that he first bigan 
To riden out, he loved chivalrye, 
Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisye. 
Ful worthy was he in his lordes werre, 
And therto hadde he riden, no rnan ferre, 
As wel in cristendom as in hethenesse, 
And evere honoured for his worthynesse . . . 
And though that he wer€ worthy, he was wys, 
And of his port as meeke as is a mayde. 
He nevere yet no vileynye ne sayde 
In al his lyf unto no maner wight. 
He was a verrz.y parfit gentil knyght . . . 
Of fustian he wered a gypon, 
Al bismoteted with his habergeon, 
For he was late ycome from his viage, 
And wente {or to doon his pilgrymage. 

... A yong Squier... he was 
A lovyere and a lusty bacheler,
With lokkes crulle as they were leyd in presse. 
Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse. 
Of his stature he was of evene lengthe, 
And wonderly delyvere, and of greet strengthe ... 
Embrouded was he, as it were a meede, 
Al ful of fresshe floures whyte and reede. 
Syngynge he was, or floytynge, al the day; 
He was as fressh as is the month of May. 
Short was his gowne, with sleves longe and wyde. 
Wel koude he sitte on hors and faire ryde.
He koude songes make and wel endite, 
Juste and eek daunce . . . 
So hoote he lovede that by nyghtertale 
He sleep namoore than dooth a nyghtyngale. 
La, la, la

Experience, though noon auctotitee 
Were in this world, is right ynogh for me 
To speke of wo that is in mariage. 
For, lordynges, sith I twelve yeer was of age, 
Thonked be God ...
Housbondes at chirche dor I have had fyve, ... 
And alle were worthy men in hir degree. 
But me was toold, ... nat longe agoon is, 
That sith that Crist ne wente nevere but onis ... 
That I ne sholde wedded be but ones... 
Biside a welle, Jhesus, God and man, 
Spak in repreeve of the Samaritan: 
"Thou hast yhad fyve housbondes," quod he, 
"And that ilke man that now hath thee 
Is noght thyn housbonde;" thus seyde he, certeyn ... 
But that I axe why that the fifthe man 
Was noon housbonde to the Samaritan? 
How manye myghte she have in mariage? ... 
God bad us for to wexe aud multiplye. 
That gentil text kan I wei understonde. 
Eek wel I woot, he seyde myn housbonde 
Sholde lete fader and mooder and take to me; 
But of no nombre mencion made he, 
Of bigamye or of octogamye; 
Why sholde men thanne speke of it vileynye?