white as morning milk Upon her lendës, full of many a gore. White was her smock, and broider’d all before, And eke behind, on her collar about Of coal-black silk, within and eke without. The tapës of her whitë volupere Were of the samë suit of her collére; Her fillet broad of silk, and set full high: And sickerly she had a likerous eye. Full small y-pulled were her browës two, And they were bent, and black as any sloe. She was well more blissful on to see Than is the newë perjenetë tree; And softer than the wool is of a wether. And by her girdle hung a purse of leather, Tassel’d with silk, and pearlëd with latoun. In all this world to seeken up and down There is no man so wise, that coudë thenche So gay a popelot, or such a wench. Full brighter was the shining of her hue, Than in the Tower the noble forged new. But of her song, it was as loud and yern, As any swallow chittering on a bern. Thereto she couldë skip, and make a game, As any kid or calf following his dame. Her mouth was sweet as braket, or as methe, Or hoard of apples, laid in hay or heath. Wincing she was as is a jolly colt, Long as a mast, and upright as a bolt. A brooch she bare upon her low collére, As broad as is the boss of a bucklére. Her shoon were laced on her leggës high; She was a primerole, a piggesnie, For any lord t’ have ligging in his bed, Or yet for any good yeoman to wed.
Now, sir, and eft sir, so befell the case, That on a day this Hendy Nicholas Fell with this youngë wife to rage and play, While that her husband was at Oseney, As clerkës be full subtle and full quaint. And privily he caught her by the queint, And said; “Y-wis, but if I have my will, For dernë love of thee, leman, I spill.” And heldë her fast by the haunchë bones, And saidë “Leman, love me well at once, Or I will dien, all so God me save.” And she sprang as a colt doth in the trave: And with her head she writhed fast away, And said; “I will not kiss thee, by my fay. Why let be,” quoth she, “let be, Nicholas, Or I will cry out harow and alas! Do away your handës, for your courtesy.” This Nicholas gan mercy for to cry, And spake so fair, and proffer’d him so fast, That she her love him granted at the last, And swore her oath by Saint Thomas of Kent, That she would be at his commandement, When that she may her leisure