The Canon’s Yeoman’s Tale 4607

When ended was the life of Saint Cecile, Ere we had ridden fully fivë mile, 4608 At Boughton-under-Blee us gan o’ertake A man, that clothed was in clothës black, And underneath he wore a white surplíce. His hackenay, 4609 which was all pomely-gris, 4610 So sweated, that it wonder was to see; It seem’d as he had pricked 4611 milës three. The horse eke that his yeoman rode upon So sweated, that unnethës 4612 might he gon. About the peytrel 4613 stood the foam full high; He was of foam, as flecked 4614 as a pie.