A Shipman was there, wonned far by West: 143 For ought I wot, be was of Dartëmouth. He rode upon a rouncy, as he couth, 144 All in a gown of falding 145 to the knee. A dagger hanging by a lace had he About his neck under his arm adown; The hot summer had made his hue all brown; And certainly he was a good felláw. Full many a draught of wine he had y-draw From Bourdeaux-ward, while that the chapmen sleep; Of nicë consciénce took he no keep. If that he fought, and had the higher hand, By water he sent them home to every land. But of his craft to reckon well his tides, His streamës and his strandës him besides, His herberow, 146 his moon, and lodemanage,