By patente, and by pleyn commissioun.
     
     For his science, and for his heigh renoun,
     Of fees and robes hadde he many oon.
     So greet a purchasour was nowher noon,
     Al was fee symple to hym in effect,
     His purchasyng myghte nat been infect.
      
     Nowher so bisy a man as he ther nas,
     And yet he semed bisier than he was;
     In termes hadde he caas and doomes alle,
     That from the tyme of Kyng William were falle.
     Therto he koude endite, and make a thyng,
     
     Ther koude no wight pynche at his writyng.
     And every statut koude he pleyn by rote.
     He rood but hoomly in a medlee cote
     Girt with a ceint of silk, with barres smale;-
     Of his array telle I no lenger tale.
     
        A Frankeleyn was in his compaignye;
     Whit was his berd as is a dayesye.
     Of his complexioun he was sangwyn.
     Wel loved he by the morwe a sope in wyn,
     To lyven in delit was evere his wone;
     
     For he was Epicurus owene sone,
     That heeld opinioun that pleyn delit
     Was verraily felicitee parfit,
     An housholdere, and that a greet, was he;
     Seint Julian was he in his contree.
     
     His breed, his ale, was alweys after oon,
     A bettre envyned man was nowher noon.
     Withoute bake mete was nevere his hous,
     Of fissh and flessh, and that so plentevous,
     It snewed in his hous of mete and drynke,
     
     Of alle deyntees that men koude thynke.
     After the sondry sesons of the yeer
     So chaunged he his mete and his soper.
     Ful many a fat partrich hadde he in muwe,
     And many a breem and many a luce in stuwe.
     
     Wo was his cook, but if his sauce were
     Poynaunt, and sharp, and redy al his geere.
     His table dormant in his halle alway
     Stood redy covered al the longe day.
     At sessiouns ther was he lord and sire;
     
     Ful ofte tyme he was knyght of the shire.
     An anlaas and a gipser al of silk
     Heeng at his girdel, whit as morne milk.
     A shirreve hadde he been, and a countour,
     Was nowher swich a worthy vavasour.
     
        An Haberdasshere and a Carpenter,
     A Webbe, a Dyere, and a Tapycer-
     And they were clothed alle in o lyveree
     Of a solempne and a greet fraternitee.
     Ful fressh and newe hir geere apiked was,
     
     Hir knyves were chaped noght with bras,
     But al with silver wroght ful clene and weel,
     Hir girdles and hir pouches everydeel.
     Wel semed ech of hem a fair burgeys
     To sitten in a yeldehalle on a deys.
     
     Everich for the wisdom that he kan
     Was shaply for to been an alderman;
     For catel hadde they ynogh, and rente,
     And eek hir wyves wolde it wel assente-
     And eles, certeyn, were they to blame!
      
     It is ful fair to been ycleped `ma Dame,'
     And goon to vigilies al bifore,
     And have a mantel roialliche ybore.
        A Cook they hadde with hem for the nones,
     To boille the chiknes with the marybones,
     
     And poudre-marchant tart, and galyngale.
     Wel koude he knowe a draughte of London ale;
     He koude rooste, and sethe, and broille, and frye,
     Maken mortreux, and wel bake a pye.
     But greet harm was it, as it thoughte me,
     
     That on his shyne a mormal hadde he!
     For blankmanger, that made he with the beste.
        A Shipman was ther, wonynge fer by weste;
     For aught I woot, he was of Dertemouthe.
     He rood upon a rouncy, as he kouthe,
     
     In a gowne of faldyng to the knee.
     A daggere hangynge on a laas hadde he
     Aboute his nekke, under his arm adoun.
     The hoote somer hadde maad his hewe al broun,
     And certeinly he was a good felawe.
     
     Ful many a draughte of wyn had he ydrawe
     Fro Burdeuxward, whil that the chapman sleep.