“In faith, Squiër, thou hast thee well acquit, And gentilly; I praisë well thy wit,” Quoth the Franklin; “considering thy youthë So feelingly thou speak’st, Sir, I aloue thee, As to my doom, there is none that is here Of eloquencë that shall be thy peer, If that thou live; God give thee goodë chance, And in virtúe send thee continuánce, For of thy speaking I have great daintý. I have a son, and, by the Trinitý; It were me lever than twenty pound worth land, Though it right now were fallen in my hand, He were a man of such discretión As that ye be: fy on possessión, But if a man be virtuous withal. I have my sonë snibbed, and yet shall, For he to virtue listeth not t’ intend, But for to play at dice, and to dispend, And lose all that he hath, is his uságe; And he had lever talkë with a page, Than to commune with any gentle wight, There he might learen gentilless aright.”
“Straw for your gentillessë!” quoth our Host. “What? Frankëlin, pardie, Sir, well thou wost That each of you must tellen at the least A tale or two, or breakë his behest.” “That know I well, Sir,” quoth the Frankëlin; “I pray you havë me not in disdain, Though I to this man speak a word or two.” “Tell on thy tale, withoutë wordës mo’.” “Gladly, Sir Host,” quoth he, “I will obey Unto your will; now hearken what I say; I will you not contráry in no wise, As far as that my wittës may suffice. I pray to God that it may pleasë you, Then wot I well that it is good enow.
“These oldë gentle Bretons, in their days, Of divers áventúrës madë lays, Rhymeden in their firstë Breton tongue; Which layës with their instruments they sung, Or ellës readë them for their pleasánce; And one of them have I in remembránce, Which I shall say with good will as I can. But, Sirs, because I am a borel man, At my beginning first I you beseech Have me excused of my rudë speech. I learned never rhetoric, certáin; Thing that I speak, it must be bare and plain. I slept never on the mount