The Tale 1220

At Trompington, not far from Cantebrig, 1221 There goes a brook, and over that a brig, Upon the whichë brook there stands a mill: And this is very sooth that I you tell. A miller was there dwelling many a day, As any peacock he was proud and gay: Pipen he could, and fish, and nettës bete, 1222 And turnë cups, and wrestle well, and shete. 1223 Aye by his belt he bare a long pavade, 1224 And of his sword full trenchant was the blade. A jolly popper 1225 bare he in his pouch; There was no man for peril durst him touch. A Sheffield whittle bare he in his hose. Round was his face, and camuse 1226 was his nose. As pilled 1227