And al was conscience, and tendre herte.
     
     Ful semyly hir wympul pynched was,
     Hire nose tretys, hir eyen greye as glas,
     Hir mouth ful smal, and therto softe and reed;
     But sikerly, she hadde a fair forheed,
     It was almoost a spanne brood, I trowe,
     
     For, hardily, she was nat undergrowe.
     Ful fetys was hir cloke, as I was war;
     Of smal coral aboute hir arm she bar
     A peire of bedes, gauded al with grene,
     An theron heng a brooch of gold ful sheene,
     
     On which ther was first write a crowned `A,'
     And after,`Amor vincit omnia.'
     Another Nonne with hir hadde she,
     That was hire Chapeleyne, and preestes thre.
        A Monk ther was, a fair for the maistrie,
     
     An outridere, that lovede venerie,
     A manly man, to been an abbot able.
     Ful many a deyntee hors hadde he in stable;
     And whan he rood, men myghte his brydel heere
     Gynglen in a whistlynge wynd als cleere,
     
     And eek as loude, as dooth the chapel belle,
     Ther as this lord was keper of the celle.
     The reule of Seint Maure, or of Seint Beneit,
     Bycause that it was old and somdel streit-
     This ilke Monk leet olde thynges pace,
     
     And heeld after the newe world the space.
     He yaf nat of that text a pulled hen,
     That seith that hunters beth nat hooly men,
     Ne that a monk, whan he is recchelees,
     Is likned til a fissh that is waterlees-
     
     This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloystre-
     But thilke text heeld he nat worth an oystre!
     And I seyde his opinioun was good,
     What sholde he studie, and make hymselven wood,
     Upon a book in cloystre alwey to poure,
     
     Or swynken with his handes and laboure
     As Austyn bit?  How shal the world be served?
     Lat Austyn have his swynk to him reserved;
     Therfore he was a prikasour aright,
     Grehoundes he hadde, as swift as fowel in flight;
     
     Of prikyng and of huntyng for the hare
     Was al his lust, for no cost wolde he spare.
     I seigh his sleves ypurfiled at the hond
     With grys, and that the fyneste of a lond;
     And for to festne his hood under his chyn
     
     He hadde of gold ywroght a curious pyn;
     A love-knotte in the gretter ende ther was.
     His heed was balled, that shoon as any glas,
     And eek his face, as it hadde been enoynt.
     He was a lord ful fat and in good poynt,
     
     Hise eyen stepe, and rollynge in his heed,
     That stemed as a forneys of a leed;
     His bootes souple, his hors in greet estaat;
     Now certeinly he was a fair prelaat!
     He was nat pale as a forpyned goost,
     
     A fat swan loved he best of any roost.
     His palfrey was as broun as is a berye,
        A Frere ther was, a wantowne and a merye,
     A lymytour, a ful solempne man,
     In alle the ordres foure is noon that kan
     
     So muchel of daliaunce and fair langage.
     He hadde maad ful many a mariage
     Of yonge wommen at his owene cost.
     Unto his ordre he was a noble post,
     And wel biloved and famulier was he
     
     With frankeleyns overal in his contree
     And eek with worthy wommen of the toun,
     For he hadde power of confessioun,
     As seyde hymself, moore than a curat,
     For of his ordre he was licenciat.
     
     Ful swetely herde he confessioun,
     And plesaunt was his a absolucioun,
     He was an esy man to yeve penaunce
     Ther as he wiste to have a good pitaunce;
     For unto a povre ordre for to yive
     
     Is signe that a man is wel yshryve;
     For, if he yaf, he dorste make avaunt,
     He wiste that a man was repentaunt.
     For many a man so harde is of his herte,
     He may nat wepe, al thogh hym soore smerte;
     
     Therfore, in stede of wepynge and preyeres,
     Men moote yeve silver to the povre freres.