With him there was his son, a youngë Squire , A lover, and a lusty bacheler, With lockës crulle 26 as they were laid in press. Of twenty year of age he was I guess. Of his statúre he was of even length, And wonderly deliver, 27 and great of strength. And he had been some time in chevachie, 28 In Flanders, in Artois, and Picardie, And borne him well, as of so little space, 29 In hope to standen in his lady’s grace. Embroider’d was he, as it were a mead All full of freshë flowers, white and red. Singing he was, or fluting all the day; He was as fresh as is the month of May. Short was his gown, with sleevës long and wide. Well could he sit on horse, and fairë ride.