eyen had he, as an hare. A vernicle had he sew’d upon his cap. His wallët lay before him in his lap, Bretful of pardon come from Rome all hot. A voice he had as small as hath a goat. No beard had he, nor ever one should have. As smooth it was as it were new y-shave; I trow he were a gelding or a mare. But of his craft, from Berwick unto Ware, Ne was there such another pardonere. For in his mail he had a pillowbere, Which, as he saidë, was our Lady’s veil: He said, he had a gobbet of the sail That Saintë Peter had, when that he went Upon the sea, till Jesus Christ him hent. He had a cross of latoun full of stones, And in a glass he haddë piggë’s bones. But with these relics, whennë that he fond A poorë parson dwelling upon lond, Upon a day he got him more money Than that the parson got in moneths tway; And thus with feigned flattering and japes, He made the parson and the people his apes. But truëly to tellen at the last, He was in church a noble ecclesiast. Well could he read a lesson or a story, But alderbest he sang an offertóry: For well he wistë, when that song was sung, He mustë preach, and well afile his tongue, To winnë silver, as he right well could: Therefore he sang full merrily and loud.
Now have I told you shortly