Quoth this Sompnour; “and I beshrewë me, But if 2015 I tellë talës two or three Of friars, ere I come to Sittingbourne, That I shall make thine heartë for to mourn: For well I wot thy patience is gone.” Our Hostë criëd, “Peace, and that anon;” And saidë, “Let the woman tell her tale. Ye fare 2016 as folk that drunken be of ale. Do, Dame, tell forth your tale, and that is best.” “All ready, sir,” quoth she, “right as you lest, 2017 If I have licence of this worthy Frere.” “Yes, Dame,” quoth he, “tell forth, and I will hear.”