she had a fair forehéad. It was almost a spannë broad I trow; For hardily she was not undergrow. Full fetis was her cloak, as I was ware. Of small corál about her arm she bare A pair of beadës, gauded all with green; And thereon hung a brooch of gold full sheen, On which was first y-written a crown’d A, And after, Amor vincit omnia . Another Nun also with her had she, [That was her chapelléine, and Priestës three.]
A Monk there was, a fair for the mast’ry, An outrider, that loved venery; A manly man, to be an abbot able. Full many a dainty horse had he in stable: And when he rode, men might his bridle hear Jingeling in a whistling wind as clear, And eke as loud, as doth the chapel bell, There as this lord was keeper of the cell. The rule of Saint Maur and of Saint Benet, Because that it was old and somedeal strait, This ilkë monk let oldë thingës pace, And held after the newë world the trace. He gave not of the text a pulled hen, That saith, that hunters be not holy men; Ne that a monk, when he is cloisterless; Is like to a fish that is waterless; This is to say, a monk out of his cloister. This ilkë text held he not worth an oyster; And I say his opinion was good. Why should he study, and make himselfë wood, Upon a book in cloister always pore, Or swinken with his handës, and laboúr, As Austin bit? how shall the world be served? Let Austin have his swink to him reserved. Therefore he was a prickasour aright: Greyhounds he had as swift as fowl of flight: Of pricking and of hunting for the hare Was all his lust, for no cost would he spare. I saw his sleevës purfil’d at the hand With gris, and that the finest of the land. And for to fasten his hood under his chin, He had of gold y-wrought a curious pin: A love-knot in the greater end there was. His head was bald, and shone as any glass, And eke his face, as it had been anoint; He was a lord full fat and in good point; His eyen steep, and rolling in his head, That steamed as a furnace of a lead. His bootës supple, his horse in great estate, Now certainly he was a fair preláte; He was not pale as a forpined ghost; A fat swan lov’d he best of any roast. His palfrey was as brown as is a berry.